


Harry Potter and the Haunted Toilet

by EliteDelieght, punkrockbadger



Series: rewrite potter [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Hufflepuff Neville, The Potters Live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliteDelieght/pseuds/EliteDelieght, https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, young wizard and professional detention earner, returns to his second year of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry against all odds. Will a summer's worth of praying that he won't almost die this year be worth anything? Harry thinks so, but as his friends Ron and Hermione will often tell anyone in earshot, he's usually dead wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Number Four, Privet Drive

If you were to ask Harry James Potter what he considered most important in life, he would, without a doubt, answer that question with one word-- family.

Of course, this courtesy, as it usually does, did not extend to all members of his family. His siblings were alright-- Sarah had turned eight (eight whole years old, imagine that) while Harry was away at school and was now lording it over the triplets with as much gusto as she could muster, and the triplets were, as usual, ignoring Sarah’s every action in favor of getting into trouble. His parents weren’t all too bad either-- if you discounted the fact that James Potter was responsible for part of his report card and Lily Potter just didn’t seem to understand that twelve year old boys didn’t need kisses on the cheek before everything.

But, as Harry tumbled out of the fireplace at Arabella Figg’s, into the sweltering heat of summer in Little Whinging, he could easily name two people who he wouldn’t count among his family, if he had any choice in the matter.

“Alright, kids.” James Potter, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with his shirt buttoned all the way up, shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. He had lost quite an intense battle with a comb just five minutes earlier, and it showed. “Best behavior. No one calls Petunia names, even if she deserves them. That’s what we do to Vernon, once we’re all the way home and they absolutely cannot hear us. Deal?”

“Somehow, I feel like Mom wouldn’t have endorsed this version of the pre-Dursleys talk.” Sarah rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the fireplace, quickly getting out of the way before Drew fell face first onto Mrs. Figg’s carpet. She helped him up carefully, getting him out of the way before the triplets ended up in a dogpile, as they often seemed to. Drew blinked owlishly at his sister, but didn't offer a protest.

“That’s why she went ahead and left me to do the talking, kanna.” James grinned, counting the children up as Anne and Matt, although late, appeared one after another. “Great. Everyone’s here. Say thank you to Mrs. Figg, kids.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Figg!” They all chorused in unison, Matt slightly after the rest, before James led them out the door. Harry had been quite fond of Mrs. Figg as a child, having enjoyed looking at her many pictures of cats, but her cabbage sandwiches always left a little to be desired. Uncle Sirius would have said that cabbage sandwiches made him thankful for the fact that Harry’s own mother wouldn’t dare do that to him, and Harry fully agreed.

“Brace yourselves.” Sarah spoke up, bravely trying to stifle an oncoming wave of laughter as the Potters trooped up to the front step of Number Four, Privet Drive. It was an ordinary house, on an entirely ordinary street, and that was the way their mother’s sister and her family, the Dursleys, liked it. The Dursleys were, as their death grip on remaining normal implied, quite horrid by any standard. “Something wicked this way comes.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it for a second.” Harry shuddered as a familiar face appeared in the window, checking their identities before bustling over to the door. “Hope no one else is in a shoe throwing mood today.”

“Take them off before you even think about it again.” All the children, thanks to years of practice, had their shoes lined up neatly on Number Four’s doorstep before the door opened.

“It’s so nice to see you again, children, James.” Petunia Dursley smiled in an obviously forced manner, stepping aside to let her least favorite family members in, and the Potters fought their way into the house, fully aware of the consequences of being left outside, however much more fun that may be.

James placed his hands on Matt’s shoulders, steering him into the house, and the rest of the children followed their father’s lead, Harry taking up the rear to make sure no one tried for an escape. Even when the Potters were at their most normal, whatever that meant, the Dursleys never quite liked being around them, and as James had often told Harry, it was on him and his siblings to make sure the Dursleys (or anyone else, for that matter) had nothing to complain about rather than on the Dursleys to turn a blind eye to differences.

The walls were lined with pictures of a rather chubby boy, and Harry ducked his head slightly, feeling as if there were an army of little Dudleys to worry about rather than just one, vaguely terrifying cousin.

“Uncle James! Harry!” Dudley sped out of the living room to meet them in the hallway, and instantly cowered at the sight of Petunia’s frown, opting for a more formal greeting. “Err, nice to see you all again. It’s been too long.”

“It has been.” James ruffled Dudley’s neatly brushed and gelled hair, turning it into as much as mess as his own, and Dudley chuckled. “You’ve gotten taller, Dud. Nice.”

“I’m gonna be taller than Dad someday, I bet.” Dudley said proudly, puffing out his chest, and Harry snorted.

“Good thing my dad’s taller than yours, means I’ve still got a chance.” Harry grinned, even as Dudley crossed his arms.

"At any rate, you'll all be taller than me. I'll have to resort to heels." Lily's smile lit up the immediate vicinity, and she patted both of their heads. "I suppose I have a few more years though, yeah?"

"I'll be tall too!" Drew piped up. His grin was a bit lopsided, as he had knocked out his front teeth the other day after a particularly disastrous attempt at scaling a wall.

“Hopefully not too many years.” Harry shrugged. “Ron’s already making me look like one of Snow White’s dwarves.”

"Ron grows like a weed." Lily agreed. "Most of the Weasley boys do, you know, but he'll cap off soon enough."

“Here’s to hoping.” Harry nodded. “How’s the situation in the boiler room?”

“Hari, vaiya moodu da.” James said, trying to whisper. It, as most things James Potter did, only worked about eighty percent of the way. (Hari, shut up.)

“Aunt Lily, what’s he saying?” Dudley looked confused. “Swear words?” 

"He's asking Harry if he remembered to brush his teeth because his breath smells just horrid." Lily lied easily. Matt frowned up at her from behind her legs, but didn't offer any comment.

“Harry is stinky.” Dudley smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“Well, Petunia and Vernon must be dying to meet their nieces and nephews again, right?” James pushed Sarah forward, looking very much like he’d rather sink into hell than speak to his brother and sister in law. “Right, guys?”

“Yeah.” Sarah stepped forward, looking as if she were entering a war zone rather than speaking to her aunt and uncle. “Dying.”

Lily helped to steer Matt forward, and Anne had already disappeared into another room with Drew in tow. "I'd ask you to behave, but in the end it might be a lost cause." She sighed. "So if you're going to cause a ruckus let me clear the room first."

“I made them all promise to behave, so don’t worry about it.” James sighed. “How’s the situation looking? Petunia ready to throw me off a cliff yet?”

"When isn't she?" She tossed her hair over one shoulder and gave her husband a wry smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I doubt she'd wait long before making me join you."

“It’s one of the only bright points in my life. Besides, I distinctly remember something being said about sticking with me forever, so even if Petunia didn’t force you…” James shrugged. “We’re already in hell anyway, so what could be worse?”

“Don’t say that, Dad.” Harry shuddered. “I did and Hagrid’s pet monster almost ripped me to pieces.”

“Which one?” Sarah asked, genuinely interested.

"No talk of that in Aunt Petunia's house." Matt whispered, pursing his lips together. "She gets mad and her face turns purple."

“Yaaranu mayaththa paththi oru varthai sonnel naa, adi nimithiduven.” James looked at each of his kids in turn, eyes lingering on Harry for a few seconds longer than the others. During the last Dursley visit, Harry had declared Grunnings’ newest sales strategy (which consisted of Vernon forcing clients to make a decision over dinner at Number Four) “positively magical”, which had turned Vernon’s face the color of an eggplant. (You say one word about magic and I'll kick your butt.)

"Eppothume enna paaththu thaan kaththarel." Harry crossed his arms. (You're always only yelling at me.)

"Onna paththu therinju thaan kaththaraar, anna." Sarah shrugged, stomping on Harry’s foot as soon as her father was distracted. (He's yelling at you for a reason, big brother.)

Lily had passed into the sitting room by then, and Matt lingered by his older siblings.

“Come on, guys. No use delaying the inevitable.” James ruffled Matt’s hair before following Lily into the sitting room, Harry and Sarah waiting a moment before both trying to get through the door at once.

Matt watched them with furrowed eyebrows, patiently waiting for them to actually get through the door before shuffling through. Drew and Anne were crowding around James, but Lily was smiling brightly at her sister. "Petunia! You look well. How have you been?"

The pinched look she received wasn't encouraging, but her smile didn't waver. "Well enough, I suppose. Certainly less tired than you must be, with such a charming gaggle of children to run after."

“They’re certainly just as good as behaving as they are at charming the hearts out of most people.” James tried his best to think positive. “And Vernon? How’s Grunnings doing?”

“Splendid.” Uncle Vernon, who quite resembled a walrus, nodded smugly. “Have you found work yet, Potter?”

“Believe it or not, work keeps finding me, no matter how hard I try to hide.” James nodded.

"Daddy is a teacher!" Anne piped up, planting her hands on her hips. "At Harry's school."

"We're gonna go there too, when we're older." Drew agreed.

Uncle Vernon’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of Hogwarts, probably from all sorts of (not entirely false) things Aunt Petunia had told him, and Petunia’s already barely there smile stretched even thinner as Harry shot a look at Anne and Drew. It was disappointing to Harry that Uncle Vernon despised magic so much, as he felt Uncle Vernon and Professor Snape would have gotten on splendidly, what with their mutual hatred of everything Potter, especially Harry and his father.

“Dudley’s doing excellently at Smeltings. Going to join the wrestling team, just like his father.” Vernon looked even more prideful, if that were even possible. “I suppose your son’s doing alright, what with his father to pass him along.”

“Pretty solidly in the top five of his year without my help, actually.” James grinned. Vernon seemed to back down slightly, and James knew for experience that it wouldn’t last too long.

"My little Duddykins is doing just amazing! Not that I expected any less, of course. We're just so proud." Petunia preened. “He’s such a gift.”

Harry pretended to gag at the mention of Dudley’s infamous nickname, after making sure Petunia and Vernon were both otherwise occupied. Lily elbowed his shoulder gently, fighting a smile at her son's antics.

"Oh, I understand the feeling. I've got plenty of children to be proud of, but with just one I guess you don't have to stretch it quite as thin. Right, Tuney?" Lily moved to pat down Harry's hair. Harry smiled brightly right on cue, which only irritated his aunt further. Good.

“So many children that you can’t even keep track of them.” Vernon harrumphed. “Three of them have gone off somewhere already. Causing trouble, no doubt, like the rest of their folk.”

“I’m sure they’re playing with Dudley, Vernon.” James frowned.

"Matt is always running off on his own-- he gets nervous around too many people. And, well, you know how kids are. Can't sit still for too long." Lily hummed. "Sarah, did you see where they went?"

“Anne and Drew disappeared as soon as we came in. I’ll go find them.” Sarah stood up a little too quickly.

Harry thought of going with Sarah, to prevent the inevitable fight when she tried to convince Anne that whatever destruction of private property was happening was wrong, but then realized that a fight would allow them to leave faster. And, if he were lucky, his father would forget about grounding him, if Sarah and Anne got in enough trouble, and he could go over to Ron’s next week.

"... Alright, just make sure they aren't on a goose chase for your brother." Lily finally relented. The look in her eye warned Sarah to make sure they weren't trying to burn the house down as well, but the Dursleys seemed more concerned with the small wizards roaming freely than the redhead's wide eyes.

"Don't go into any rooms with closed doors." Petunia sniffed. "And come straight back with them! I don't want them touching any of our things unsupervised."

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” Sarah ran off to find her siblings. If she didn’t know them as well as she did, she would be afraid that they’d be off in Dudley’s second bedroom, trying to make something dangerous out of the pile of broken toys.

But she’d had to learn better, over the years, and knew that the room would be empty save for the mountains of broken toys it contained. Dudley’s bedroom door, which was closed and likely locked, was out of the question. Her cousin likely would skin and roast anyone who dared touch his things. That left only one other option.

And, as usual, her guess was right.

“What are you doing under their bed?” Sarah grimaced, spotting Anne’s legs sticking out from under her uncle and aunt’s bed. “That’s just gross.”

"Aunt Petunia must really like vacuuming!" Anne's giggle was muffled. She shimmied out from beneath the bed and sat up to grin at her sister. "Too bad that won't do much about the stink, once the dungbomb goes off."

“Anne, did you really…” Sarah groaned. “You can’t keep doing this. They’ll actually get mad, eventually.”

"Just wiggle your fingers and say 'hocus pocus' and they turn into big babies." She scoffed, wiggling her fingers for effect.

“Harry said abracadabra to Dudders Dearest once, and he nearly cried.” Sarah frowned before joining Anne anyway. “How many are you planting under the bed? If you spread them out, you can affect more of the house.”

"Fred and George only gave me two." She sighed, laying back down to point at the dungbomb she'd planted under the bedframe. "I figured we'd put the other one in Duddykins’ room. Or maybe the bathroom?"

“He’s got the door locked, unfortunately. And it would be wasted on the second bedroom.” Sarah shrugged. “We could plant it in Aunt Petunia’s closet.”

"Then all her clothes would stink!" She gasped in obvious delight. "It'll match her attitude." The red haired child clambered to her feet, grabbing the little pink backpack she'd brought along with her.

“Plus, if the explosion stays contained, some of it might get stuck in places they can’t clean. And even if it doesn’t, they’re out a door.” Sarah grinned. “No way to lose.”

Anne grinned at her sister, extracting the bomb from her bag and holding it out to Sarah. "Take this for a second. I'll open the door, and you can tie it onto one of her dresses or something!"

Sarah eagerly took the bag. “Sounds great.”

Anne yanked open the closet door just as Drew poked his head into the room. "Someone’s coming up the stairs!" He hissed.

“Anne, you distract them.” Sarah quickly slipped past her to plant the Dungbomb, activating it before shutting the closet door softly. “We’re good.”

Anne slipped into the hall, and her chatter was loud enough that they could hear it from the bedroom. "What do we do now?" Drew asked. "If we leave they'll see us."

Sarah grabbed Drew by his upper arm all of a sudden, dragging him out into the hallway. “Drew, we’ve been here half a million times and you still don’t know where the bathroom is?”

He stared up at her, brown eyes wide with confusion for a moment. "What-? Oh! Uh... Sorry?" The sheepish smile was genuine, and Anne smiled from behind her Aunt's legs.

"Really," she sniffed, "next time... Feel free to use the downstairs bathroom."

“Of course.” Sarah smiled brightly. As much as she disliked her aunt, she was well aware that, as the best behaved of the bunch (or so the adults believed), her aunt would be far more likely to take her word for it than any of her siblings’. “You know how he is. I’ll keep him out of the way.”

"Yes, I would appreciate that." Petunia's eyes swept suspiciously between the three of them, and then back to her bedroom door. "Where's the youngest one, then? Matthew?"

"He wasn't with us." Drew shrugged.

"I thought he was still in the sitting room with Mum and Daddy?" Anne shrugged, obviously unconcerned. Matt always turned up once he got hungry.

“Mattie’s always getting lost, really.” Sarah shrugged. “He’ll be off in a closet somewhere, probably. Come on, Drew, Anne, let’s find him.” The bomb would go off in another two and a half minutes, and if they were all lucky, Petunia would be looking straight at it when it did.

"Yup!" Anne had already disappeared down the stairs, and Drew went thundering after her with a belated "wait for me!".

"Off with you too, then." Petunia sighed.

Sarah ran down the stairs after her siblings, trying her best to keep from laughing.

"Did you find Matt?" Lily was leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs. "He isn't under any tables or behind the couches down here."

"Well did you look behind the doors? I know Aunt Petunia said not to, but I don't think he was listening very close." Drew shrugged and grabbed the doorknob nearest to him in demonstration. He tugged open the door and peered into the cupboard under the stairs.

Matt stared back at him, tucked underneath a dusty shelf with what appeared to be a tiny plastic horse in one hand. "... Hello."

"I win!" Drew declared.

“I don’t think anyone wins, really.” Sarah seemed to be holding back a sneeze. “Mattie, get out of there."

"I found him though, so I win." Drew insisted, already reaching into the closet to help his brother climb out. Matt offered him the horse as though it were a prize.

“Is there a prize?” Sarah looked to her mother.

"Well I didn't post a wanted sign for him, but I think an ice cream stop could be arranged." She winked, ruffling her daughter’s hair.

“We should probably leave then, if you’re promising ice cream.” Sarah looked to Anne. “We wouldn’t want to impose for too much longer.”

"No, definitely not!" Anne agreed quickly. "Daddy and Uncle Vernon probably shouldn't be left alone too much longer anyways, and Matt needs a bath now that he's all dusty." Drew sneezed loudly, as though to emphasize her point.

Lily stared at her daughters for a moment, green eyes narrowing. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

“Of course not.” Sarah shrugged. “Why would we hide anything? That’s Harry’s job.”

Lily looked ready to protest, but a sudden tug on her sweater made her look down at her youngest sons. "Can I get butterscotch?" Drew asked. "And Matt wants mint."

"Matt always wants mint."

Lily sighed. "Alright, let’s get going then. Harry is probably ready to jump out a window."

“Well, for once, Ron isn’t there to catch him.” Sarah sighed. “Might as well stop him ourselves.”

The gaggle of Potters made their way back into the sitting room. Matt took one look at Vernon and hid behind Harry. Harry reached over to pat Matt’s head, shooting a look at James.

“Right, let’s head out. Thanks for having us over.” James tried to look as grateful as possible. “I had a wonderful time.”

"It was lovely to see you again, Vernon. And I always have a good time seeing my favorite nephew." Lily reached out to tap Dudley's nose, smiling brightly. "Don't give your mum too much trouble, alright?"

“Take care, Dudley.” James ruffled his nephew’s hair, earning a grin from Dudley. Vernon looked incensed at the mere thought of James associating with his son, something which James enjoyed exploiting, now that he was entirely safe for another year.

Lily called a quick goodbye to her sister from the bottom of the stairs as the family exited the house, the door slamming shut behind them. Walking down the drive, however, she paused. "Did anyone just hear a shriek...?"

"Ice cream!" Anne yelped. "You promised ice cream! Let’s go!"

“We should hurry!” Sarah said, grabbing her father’s hand to drag him forward. “Wouldn’t want to be a bother, would we?”

“Lily, we’ve succeeded as parents.” James, having been a terrifying child himself, caught on more quickly than his daughters would have given him credit for.

"Definitely, Appa, you're the very best!" Drew agreed. He laughed as he ran ahead.

"I knew you were up to something." Lily groaned. "Get a move on before Petunia comes running out here to yell at us."

“What’s she going to say, though?” Harry rolled his eyes. “The scum of the earth have left a stain upon my spotless house. Oh no, the horror.” He threw up his hands.

“I wouldn’t call it spotless.” Sarah shrugged. “That cupboard was pretty nasty.”

"I found a horse, though. That was nice." Matt hummed, slipping his hand into Sarah's free one.

"You would think Aunt Petunia would have cleaned the cupboard better, considering how spotless it was under her bed." Anne whispered to her older sister.

“Maybe she keeps it dirty so that she can hide one of us in there some day.” Harry shrugged, having leaned in as soon as he saw something worth eavesdropping on.

Matt gasped in dismay, but Drew shook his head. "Nuh uh, there was a light bulb. If she was gonna lock someone in there she wouldn't bother with a light."

“Good point.” Harry nodded. “We can’t expect too much from white people. Sorry, Mom.”

"Agreed." Lily sighed. "If anyone asks if you're related to them, say no. It will haunt you forever."

“I’d rather risk being lost forever than admit I’m related to Uncle Vernon.” Sarah shuddered. “Is that why we lost you at the temple, Matt?” Matt was famous for wandering off, especially when absorbed in his thoughts, and the fact that he enjoyed looking at all the temple walls’ paintings in order often got him separated from the group. Every priest could recognize Matt, at this point. It would be funny if it weren’t terrifying.

“That’s assuming God would save anyone related to Vernon.” James sighed. “Sorry, kids, we’re all going to hell.”

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" Drew cried.

"I don't think a race to the death sounds like such a good idea. Especially because, at the rate we're going, it won't take that long." Lily leaned down to rap her knuckles lightly against Sarah's shoulder.

“And then we’ll have to listen to Drew go on and on about how he won for eternity.” Sarah stuck her tongue out. “Gross.”

"Well, as long as he earned it."

"He won't! Cause I'm gonna win!" Anne declared, already leaping after her brother.

"I think I just sent our children on a literal suicide mission. Who trusted me with children?" Lily glanced at her husband.

“Me, apparently.” James sighed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Best five mistakes I’ve made, though.”

"Hm. I've got a sixth that I enjoy most of the time." Lily replied sagely.

“Please, I’m the best mistake you’ve ever made.” James winked.

“You’re both disgusting!” Harry gagged.

"Oh, just wait until you're a little older, sweetheart. We'll be having to deal with puppy love and googley eyes soon enough."

“Stop assuming things.” Harry pouted. “It’s not like the world’ll explode if I don’t like anybody.”

“No matter what you end up doing, stay far away from white boys. They’re disappointing as hell.” James nodded. “Don’t even think about it.”

"You're going to jinx it, Appa." Matt piped up.

“Oh. Gross.” James pulled a face.

“Maybe I’ll date Ron to piss Appa off.” Harry chuckled. “That’d be funny.”

"Ron? No way, he's icky!" Anne stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“Good point.” Harry nodded. “He doesn’t fold his socks.”

“That’s your deal breaker?” James looked surprised. “Sock folding?”

"You're one to talk, Harry Potter." Lily shook her head.

“I’m a hypocrite. It’s documented.” Harry shrugged. “So, speaking of bad habits, does anyone know a single thing about the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards? School starts in a week and a half and I haven’t even touched History of Magic yet.”

“Dramatic sketch of white bread. With mayo.” James grinned. “Binns doesn’t even read the essays.”

"Ice cream first, boys. Leave the work until later." Lily let out a laugh.

“Right. We’ll have to get out of this hellhole if we want ice cream, though.” James looked around at the identical houses, with their identical gardens and picket fences.

"I'm just as lost as you are. I feel like we're in the Twilight Zone." Lily continued marching down the sidewalk.

"We could ask Mrs. Figg for help." Mattie murmured as he tipped his head back to squint at the sky.

“Would help if we knew where she was. Can’t exactly do magic out here, can we?” James noticed a cat roaming around one of the sidewalks. “Follow the cat, I guess. As good a clue as any.”

"I really don't think that's going to work, dear." Lily let out a snort as her husband began trailing after the creature, and she wondered if he was joking or not.

Soon enough, the cat wandered up a familiar driveway.

“Told you, Lily.” James grinned. “Arabella’s the only one with that many cats.”

“More like the animal in Appa recognized one of his own.” Harry snorted. He’d had one too many close calls with Prongs’ antlers, as a child.

"Oh don't be ridiculous. Your father isn't a cat, dear. He's a deer." Lily replied seriously.

“I’m ridiculously endeering.” James knocked on the door, and thankfully, before he could make another horrid deer pun, Arabella Figg rescued them all by opening the door. “Could we borrow your fireplace for a second?”

"Does this mean we aren't going out for ice cream?" Harry groaned. He hadn't even done anything this time.

“We’ll take you out once Sarah and Anne own up to what they’ve done.” James grinned cheerily. “You could be waiting forever.”

“It’s okay, buddy.” Harry ruffled Drew’s hair, since he looked the most disappointed. Matt, seemingly, hadn’t even noticed. “There are better things in life than ice cream. Like the fact that we have three hundred and sixty-four Dursley free days to look forward to.”

“Don’t jinx it.” James called back, as the family, as usual, tried to fit through the doorway all at once before resorting to going through in twos. Arabella Figg closed the door as Matt slipped inside, and the streets of Little Whinging were back to normal, as they had been earlier that morning.

The streets were still neatly swept, every lawn’s grass cut to exactly the same height, and every flower box full of the same flowers. Not a single trace of funny business, save for the remnants of a Dungbomb in Petunia Dursley’s closet, and that was how it would stay.

At least, it would stay that way until next summer.


	2. Flourish and Blotts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, then.” Harry ran over to the fireplace, tossing the green powder in. Historically, he was not the greatest at navigating the Floo Network, but he was twelve now. According to Ron, that apparently made a big difference. When he was five, he’d once said “Grim Old Place” when going to visit Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus, and ended up in the main hall of Malfoy Manor. That had been a horrible afternoon. “Diagonally?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for racism, with regard to both race and blood status.

Lily brushed a hand through her hair, mentally taking stock of her plethora of children. Anne was seated on the couch, Drew standing nearby. Sarah was curled up on the floor, as she had been since Uncle Sirius had ruined the end of Little Women a few hours ago, staring at the ceiling. Matt was also on the floor, with a book in his lap, though his eyes were trained on his mother.

"Are you taking Harry back to school shopping?" He asked.

"As soon as he comes downstairs, yes." She checked the mantle for the bag of floo powder, and then the watch around her wrist. It wasn't anything special, with glittering hands or rotating moons. It was just a battered old muggle watch. The face was a bit scratched, and the gold dulled from years of use, but it was reliable.

"Harry! We're going to be late!" She called.

“Coming, coming!” Harry ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet twice. “You’d think I’d get used to stairs, but no…”

“Appa says there’s a whole family thing with stairs.” Sarah said, shrugging. “Apparently we should avoid them.”

"That doesn't stop Madhu from hiding under them." Drew sat down next to his brother, peering at the pages of his book.

“What stops Madhu though?” Harry ruffled his brother’s hair.

"He's a force of nature." Lily agreed fondly.

"Is Appa going with you?" Anne finally piped up. "Can we go?"

"No, he's going to stay here with the rest of you. This is a special trip just for Harry, alright?"

“Have fun, _losers_.” Harry grinned. “Appa’s probably going to read you Lord of the Rings again.”

"Promise?" Matt perked up considerably at the idea. Drew only groaned in response. He had had enough of elves and dwarves to last him three whole lifetimes, between his little brother and his father. Of course, it could be worse. His father could be reading them his worn copy of the Phantom Tollbooth _again_.

"You'll have to take that one up with your Appa." Lily smiled, turning to plant a kiss on Sarah's head. "We should be back for dinner."

“We’ll be good.” Sarah nodded. “Hey, Anne? How long do you think that Appa can go without realizing that Amma and Harry are gone?”

"I think he'll notice the lack of Harry's noise in an hour or two." Anne mused, tucking her legs underneath her.

“I think he might take longer.” Sarah shrugged. “I’d give him three. He seems weird today.”

"Appa is just having a bad day." Matt mumbled, turning a page in his book. "He should hide in the attic for awhile. That will make him feel good."

"I bet he won't notice they left till they get back!" Drew shouted over his brother.

“I think he’d notice me being gone right away.” Harry pouted. “He’s my dad, I mean, isn’t that his job?”

Lily shook her head before placing the floo powder in Harry's hand. "Diagon Alley, sweetheart."

“Alright, then.” Harry ran over to the fireplace, tossing the green powder in. Historically, he was not the greatest at navigating the Floo Network, but he was twelve now. According to Ron, that apparently made a big difference. When he was five, he’d once said “Grim Old Place” when going to visit Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus, and ended up in the main hall of Malfoy Manor. That had been a horrible afternoon. “Diagonally?”

“Well, Appa did say we had to _fire_ somebody.” Sarah sighed.

* * *

Harry tumbled out of an old, soot filled fireplace grate seconds later, and pulled himself up to his feet as he coughed. The room he was in was quite old and decrepit, and, by the looks of it, wasn’t used so often. Perhaps he’d gotten stuck in an old shop? Or a long deserted warehouse?

The walls were lined with shelves full of the strangest things that Harry had ever seen, and he walked by the tightly locked display cases with great trepidation. The more time he spent in here, the more the unnerving feeling in his gut seemed to grow. The door opened, accompanied by a tinkling bell, and Harry ducked into a cabinet, closing it almost all the way, just in time to realize how familiar the faces of the customers were.

Well, one familiar face and another just like it, but close enough.

Lucius Malfoy was speaking to the man at the counter in hushed tones, seemingly arguing over something, as Draco, who, unlike Harry, had grown over the summer, perused the shelves, running his fingers along the fronts of the glass cases.

“Father”, Draco began, haughty as always, “an injustice has been done to me.”

“What now, Draco?” Lucius seemed harried as he quickly retrieved a list from his pocket, passing it over the counter to either Borgin or Burke. “These items must be collected immediately. Discreetly. It’s a matter of… personal trouble.”

“Harry Potter”, Draco began suddenly, “will be on the Quidditch team for a second year running, this year.” He sniffed as Harry stifled a laugh, still peering through the crack between the two cabinet doors. “And I remain unchosen.”

“Have faith, Draco. You have not tried out yet.” Lucius Malfoy sighed. “Potter is easily outdone. He’s half Muggle, after all.”

Harry’s fingernails dug into his palms as he struggled not to reveal himself.

“And Granger is entirely Muggle, and she continues to frustrate me. How does one of _them_ surpass me? And in every class?” Draco whined, still running his fingers along all the cases. He poked a withered looking hand and screeched as it grabbed his finger for a split second.

“You should be embarrassed, Draco”, Lucius snapped, shooting a glare his son’s way, “to be outdone by one of such base birth. Come now. Our business is done here.”

Lucius Malfoy swept out of the room, cloak swishing at his heels, with Draco close at his heels, and Harry waited until Borgin or Burke had gone into the other room before running into the front of the shop and out the door as quickly as possible. The doors of the dingy little shop opened out onto the unevenly paved streets of Knockturn Alley, a place no wizard who liked staying alive would go, and Harry shuddered as the gaze of the witches and wizards lining the street focused on him.

It looked bad, him being a soot covered twelve year old emerging out of Borgin and Burke, a shop notorious for its dealings in Dark artifacts, and a Potter no less. He set off at a quick pace toward the sign that he knew pointed toward Diagon Alley, flinching away from a rather terrifying looking witch who asked him where his parents were, before he heard a familiar voice calling his name.

“Harry! Harry Potter!” Hagrid bellowed, swinging what looked like a brightly colored paint can back and forth by the handle. “Over here!”

“Hagrid!” Harry nearly screamed, running over to his friend. “Why are you in Knockturn Alley?”

“The more important question’s what’s a good little boy like yeh doing here?” Hagrid frowned, his eyebrows drawing together, as he took Harry’s hand in his free one. Harry didn’t mind, as he wasn’t sure if his sense of direction could be trusted much at the moment, if at all.

“What’s the paint for?” Harry asked, as they moved from the dingy, dirty streets of Knockturn Alley to the brighter, cleaner Diagon Alley.

“It’s not paint, Harry. Flesh Eatin’ Slug Repellent.” Hagrid said, much more cheerfully than the words “Flesh Eating Slug Repellent” should ever be said. “For the school cabbages.”

“We have Flesh Eating Slugs?” Harry was startled. “At school?”

“They live in the forest.” Hagrid said, smiling. “They’re a wonderful shade of bright green.” Hagrid spotted Lily Potter, or rather, he spotted a familiar head of red hair.

“An’ there’s yer mother, Harry.” Hagrid waved wildly at Lily, who noticed them a few seconds later. “Here’s yer Harry, safe and sound. Found ‘im wandering around Knockturn Alley, can yeh believe it?”

"I feel like I should be less exasperated and more concerned," she sighed, already rushing over.  "Are you alright, Harry?"

“Yeah, just gross.” Harry shuddered, trying to wipe some of the soot off his face. He didn’t say a word about having ended up in Borgin and Burke’s let alone having very nearly been discovered by the Malfoys, but he was sure his mother had figured it out already. She was a lot smarter than most people gave her credit for. Harry felt it was much safer to give her all the credit possible to begin with and then deal with the aftermath as it came.

"We still have to finish shopping, you'll have to wait until we get home to take a bath." She licked her thumb and rubbed it across his cheek in an attempt to clear the soot. She gave up a moment later.

“I only need books this year, right?” Harry frowned, trying to remember the list. “And Potions supplies, but Hermione’s always got extras of those, so…”

"I already picked some up while I was looking for you. We just have to go get your books." She straightened and smiled brightly at Hagrid. "Thank you for looking out for him. I hope he wasn't too much trouble?"

“Was jus’ brilliant, Lily.” Hagrid beamed. “Harry’s a pleasure ter have ‘round.”

“I promise Ron, Hermione and I won’t try to attack you about Fluffy this year.” Harry laughed. “Maybe we’ll have a fun afternoon tea for once!”

“I’m holdin’ yeh to that promise, Harry.” Hagrid grinned before waving and going off on his way.

“He says there are flesh eating slugs on the school cabbages.” Harry nodded solemnly. “One more reason to avoid cabbages.”

"I'm never letting you floo on your own ever again." Lily dusted him off one last time before they set off.

“Fair enough.” Harry grimaced. “I shouldn’t be allowed to do anything alone, to be honest.”

The bell above the door jangled as they stepped inside Flourish and Blott’s. It was far more crowded than usual, with packs of women and teenagers all standing elbow to elbow, pushing each other back and forth in an effort to see... something. The clamour of voices was enough to make Lily wince. Harry, noticing her reaction, shuffled a little closer to his mother. "What on earth...?"

“Honored guests, I’m so glad that you could make it to this glorious event. Why is it glorious, you ask? Because, well, it’s all about me.”

All Harry could see was a blinding flash of too white teeth, and he grimaced, unsure why this man was getting all the attention he did. He looked quite a bit like a grown up Dudley would, if Dudley were even more blonde, about twenty years older and had gotten on the wrong end of a Stretching Charm. And, on top of that, his robes were an obnoxious shade of baby blue that looked good on absolutely no one.

“His name’s Gilderoy Lockhart.” Harry spotted the man’s name, accompanied by yet another image of his smiling face, on a sign by a table piled high with books. All of the books’ covers were an obnoxious shade of lavender, and judging by their covers, Harry wasn’t quite sure that there’d be anything worth reading in them.

"I can't help but think I've heard of him before." Lily grimaced. "And I wish I hadn't."

“We should grab the books quick and get out.” Harry shuddered. “Something about him’s creepy.”

"Maybe it’s his smile?" Lily stretched her own mouth out with the tips of her index fingers, revealing far too many teeth. "Oh Harry, please do read all of my books and tell me how wonderful I am."

“Well, well, well.” A familiar, drawling voice interrupted Lily. Harry looked past his mother to see Draco Malfoy. Darn. “Twelve years old and still needs Mummy to hold his hand at the bookstore. Wouldn’t expect less from you, though, Potter."

“I wouldn’t talk so quickly, Malfoy.” Harry retorted coolly. “Your daddy’s right behind you, just like always, cleaning up your messes. Too bad he hasn’t got time for the one in your pants.”

Lily stared over both Harry and Draco's head, making eye contact with the Malfoy in question. Lucius watched her coldly, lip curling back into a sneer that he probably practiced in the mirror. She scowled right back at him, a challenge in her eyes.

“Now, now, Draco, we must play nice with our… peers.” From the way Lucius was looking at the two Potters, Harry in particular, it was clear that he regarded them as anything but equals. “What do we send you to school for, if not to prove your worth against competition, no matter how inadequate?”

"You shouldn't be calling your son inadequate, Lucius." Lily tutted with false concern. "You'll only hurt his self esteem."

“You’re right, Father.” Draco scrunched up his nose, as if he were smelling something nasty. “She is just like Granger.”

“You mean cooler than you in every way? Because that definitely describes both of them.” Harry spoke up. Lily gently squeezed his shoulder.

"I'm afraid we don't have time to be speaking with _inadequate competition_." Lily hummed, her smile sickly sweet under the warm lighting of the bookstore. "Have a lovely day, Lucius."

“Amma, you’re incredible.” Harry whispered, awestruck, once they’d hurried away from the Malfoys. “Teach me how to do that!”

"What, shut down a Malfoy before they get a chance to get under your skin?" She laughed. "It’s mostly just experience, sweetheart. There were all sorts of pureblood jerks like them when I went to Hogwarts.

“So you married one?”

"Well... Yeah. Kind of. Your father was a right git when we met, don't get me wrong. But most boys are at that age." She shrugged, pulling a book down from one of the shelves. "He got better."

“How bad _was_ he?” Harry looked legitimately afraid as he stood on his tiptoes to try and reach the Herbology book. He managed to get it down with minimal fuss and sighed in relief. He’d tried to get one of Appa’s old Quidditch manuals off the top shelf at home, and it had fallen square onto his head. That hurt. “If he’s _better_ now…”

"Absolutely terrible. Think of Uncle Sirius mixed with just a bit of Malfoy's cockiness." She snorted. "But I don't think he meant most of what he did."

“Appa said that, once, Uncle Sirius hexed some kid named Bertram Aubrey’s head to grow two times its size and Appa got detention even though he wasn’t there.” Harry sighed. “Sounds like my life. Except with more dinosaurs.”

"Are you calling your parents old?" Lily quirked an eyebrow as she handed Harry what appeared to be a potions textbook.

"Of course not." Harry shook his head. "Why would I even dream of being that disrespectful?"

"Chip off the old block." Her smile was only half teasing as she ruffled his hair. "Anything else you need before we leave?"

"Herbology, Potions, Defense is at home..." Harry counted them off of his fingers. "Transfiguration's under Potions", Harry said as he grabbed another book off the shelf, "and here’s Charms, which I'm going to fail either way. We're good."

"Alright, let’s check out and head home. Then we get to find out whether or not your father actually noticed when we left." She smiled brightly as they began weaving through the crowd and towards the register.

"Wait a second..." Harry looked to his right to see Lucius Malfoy getting pushed away from a crowd of Weasleys. Ginny, who Harry suddenly remembered would be coming with them this year, seemed a bit scared. There was a book stuffed inside one of the others, in the little cauldron she had put her books in, but that was classic Ginny, breaking books for no reason. He wondered how she and Sarah were friends, sometimes. "Is that Mr. Weasley?"

Lily watched with narrowed eyes, and soon the two Potters were striding closer to the gaggle of redheads. It seemed to be too late to intervene, as Lucius was already offering a cold smirk as though he had won some sort of game.

“Of course, I shouldn’t expect better from you, Arthur.” Lucius smirked. “Keeping such dreadful company.” He looked over to the Grangers, who were excitedly conferring with their daughter about conversion rates. Hermione quite resembled her mother who, Harry remembered, ran a successful dentistry practice along with Hermione’s father.

"I think we'd all agree that muggles are at least better, in that they seem to have manners. Unlike certain members of high society. Or is common decency something your money just can't get you these days?" Lily's arms were crossed tight over her chest, and the steel in her expression was enough to make most grown men falter.

“It seems that not even high society is safe from infection, these days.” Lucius wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Come, Draco. Textbooks can be ordered. No need to sully ourselves with their presences.” Draco sneered at Harry before the Malfoys beat a quick retreat.

"What an arse." George stuck his tongue out at the retreating figures. Fred was only stopped from flipping them off by Mrs. Weasley's harsh stare.

"Lily, dear, we weren't expecting to see you today." She smiled brightly, if not a little tiredly.

"Well, Harry needed some new books." Came the response. "Are you shopping for Ginny? It’s her big year, after all."

The tiny redhead nodded frantically, and the smile on her face was enough to assure everyone that she'd already brushed off their run in with the Malfoys.

"We'll teach you all the fun tricks for pissing off Draco once we get to school." Harry leaned over to whisper in Ginny's ear. "Bet you've got cooler ideas we haven't even thought of yet."

"Well, don't forget to write to Sarah once you've been sorted. She might not admit it, but she's really excited for you."

"I'm pretty excited for me, too, if I'm being honest." Her smile grew, and she shrugged sheepishly. "Malfoy seems like a right jerk, but nothing I haven't handled before."

"That's our girl!" The twins snickered.

"First year's way fun." Harry said, grinning. "You learn a lot of things, if you're listening."

"Yeah, and if you aren't hanging out with Harry Potter." Ron finally spoke up. "We almost got killed like... Three different times. At least!"

"Hopefully this year will be slower." Lily didn't sound too sure that that was even possible.

"Hopefully not. I don't want to get too bored." Ginny grinned.

"I have a feeling you're going to regret those words." Ron groaned.

"Stop being such a buzzkill, Ronniekins." Harry stuck out his tongue.

"Yeah. After you hogging the spotlight last year, we'll be sure to step up to the challenge." George was grinning as he looped his arm over his twin's shoulder. "Just you three wait!"

"I'm suddenly glad my husband is a professor instead of me." Lily sighed.

“See, we thought Uncle James, oh, sorry, _Professor Potter_ , would be a little easy on the detention giving, ‘cause he knows us. And then he gave us detention for saying the Marauders were cool.” Fred pulled a face. “Something about choosing appropriate role models and setting an example for the children. I don’t even remember half of that speech.”

Lily cast a glance to the side, laughter evident in her expression. "Is that so? Well... James knows what he's talking about. You should try listening to him."

“Besides, we all know Padfoot’s the only Marauder worth your time. Who names themselves Prongs?” Harry rolled his eyes. “On purpose and everything!”

"Prongs is a better name than Wormtail, at least." George protested.

"I think you're all idiots." Ginny said.

“You’ve got a point. I mean, if I knew them personally, I’d probably hate them all.” Harry shrugged. He did know them all personally, all three of them, but there was no way in hell he was ending the ruse his father had spent years cultivating now. At least not without him here.

Lily made an odd sort of noise in the back of her throat, but when the children looked up at her she only coughed. "No, I definitely agree. We should be heading home, though. Harry?"

“We should.” Harry could barely keep himself from laughing. “I should really spend some time with Dad outside of detention.”

* * *

“And then, Legolas did something cool while everyone else sank into irrelevancy.” James shut the book. “Awesome.” 

"What about Gimli? What did Gimli do?" Matt tried to peer over his father's arms and at the battered old book, his brown eyes bright.

“I think if we launch into that, Drew’s going to eat us. Alive.” James looked over at his middle son, who was laying on the carpet and occasionally groaning for dramatic effect.

“Gimli tries to fight someone when they said Galadriel isn’t the prettiest.” Sarah frowned. “Why do boys do that? Not too bad, though. Less boys, if they do each other in.”

"Because they're probably married or something." Drew grumbled. He could hardly pay attention long enough to figure out who Galadriel even was.

"They are not!" Matt protested.

“Galadriel could do better.” Sarah shrugged. “She’s a queen. Why does she need a guy with an axe?”

“Having been the guy with the metaphorical axe before, you need the guy with the axe.” James reached over to lightly push Sarah. “We’re useful eventually.”

"Galadriel isn't married, she's the queen. Queens don't need stinky, tiny husbands." Anne sniffed from the doorway.

"Gimli is the best." Matt puffed out his cheeks in protest.

“I like the tree guy.” James spoke up. “He was cool.”

"He was based off the author for the Narnia books." Matt said.

“We don’t read about Lion Jesus in this house.” James nodded. “And by we, I mean someone else is reading Winnie the Pooh now or we’re dividing up voices. Harry can be Pooh Bear again.”

"But Harry and Amma aren't back yet." Anne took a seat next to her father, who hardly noticed she had moved until she leaned her head against his arm.

“They left?” James frowned, looking around. Four children, and no wife in sight. Weren’t there supposed to be five? “When?”

As though cued by his words, the fire flared in the hearth, and the flames spit green sparks across the floor. Lily stepped out first with her customary "honey, I'm home". Harry followed close behind, soot still smudged across the bridge of his nose.

"I win!" Drew shouted in excitement.

“I thought I mattered to you!” Harry frowned. “We were gone for ages, Appa!”

“Well, you’re not wrong, but you’re not right either.” James shrugged.

"Harry, why don't you go take a bath while I make dinner?" Lily patted his head.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Hey Anne, want a hug?”

"If you touch me, I'll stuff this book up your nose!" She shrieked, having grabbed Lord of the Rings, and wielded it like a strange mixture of sword and shield.

“I really don’t think that would fit.” Harry shuddered. “I’ll go. I will go. I will go right now.”

"It so would." She replied. "You have plenty of room where your brain should have been."

“If anyone could make it fit, it would be Anne.” Sarah shrugged.

“I do too have a brain!” Harry looked to James for help. “Appa, defend me!”

“That book’s bigger than Harry’s head. It can’t physically fit inside him, especially not through his nose, without you cutting it to pieces, which is not allowed. However, if keeping Harry’s head intact isn’t a necessary thing…” James nodded. “You could make a book and brains sandwich.”

“Stop being mean to me.” Harry whined. “You’re supposed to help!”

"I think you have a brain." Matt piped up.

"You'd be the only one." Drew said. "And you hafta say that cause you're the nice one."

“Let’s not fight too hard. Remember, when I’m dead, you’re all going to be the only people you have.” James looked at each of his children in turn. “You have to be nice to your siblings. Otherwise they hate you and become terrorists. Although that could have happened for many other reasons.”

"Harry couldn't do that. He's too loyal. Or something." Drew decided.

"Not too nice?"

"He's kind of a jerk sometimes." Anne mused.

“Thanks, guys.” Harry laughed nervously. “Good to know you all love me so much.”

“So much.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Too much.”

"I'd kiss you, but then I'd need a bath."

"Speaking of which..." Lily nudged Harry towards the stairs. "Off with you, now."

“I’m going, I’m going.” Harry trudged up the stairs, leaving a trail of soot behind him.

“Does he make a mess everywhere he goes?” Sarah sighed.

“Can I preemptively give him detention forever?” James looked to Lily.

"Nope." She leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek before exiting into the kitchen.

“Darn.” James shook his head.


	3. King's Cross Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry slapped a hand against the bricks. As most people would expect, nothing spectacular happened. “It’s closed up.”

“Mum, I promise that there will be absolutely no fighting teachers this year.” Harry nodded solemnly. “Okay, maybe Snape, but nobody else.”

"I'd be more angry if you didn't fight him." Lily's hands were planted firmly on her hips. "No fighting professors, no secret lurking about, no detentions. I don't think I could handle hearing about a repeat of the Forbidden Forest."

“No detentions?” Harry’s eyes went wide. “What am I supposed to do then?”

“Quidditch? School work?” James suggested, earning a glare from his son. “Just making a list about no one in particular.”

"Your father is right. There's plenty of things for you to do at Hogwarts that won't get you in trouble."

“Yeah, like Appa actually knows about anything that wouldn’t get me in trouble.” Harry snorted.

“I’ll take an extra twenty points off Gryffindor the next time you breathe, Hari.” James scowled.

“Like you’d take points off of Gryffindor.”

“Watch me.”

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty." Lily said, her tone dry. "We need to hurry, or you'll miss the train."

“Yeah, isn’t it… late already?” Harry took one look at the clock hanging on the wall and shrugged. It looked like it was late o’clock five minutes ago.

Lily frowned, then checked her own watch. "Oh! Sorry, guess we got a little carried away. Alright!" She clapped her hands together and gave Harry a nudge with her elbow. "Off you go. Be sure to say hello to Ron and Hermione for us."

“Okay!” Harry waved before taking it at a run, just as his father had urged him to do. He’d done it right once, of course, but he couldn’t shake the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something felt wrong. And when his trolley crashed into the apparently solid brick wall, and him along with it, that fear was realized. Harry fell flat onto the floor, rubbing his head and blinked at the wall. “What?”

There was a heavy silence amidst the usual bustle of the train station. Passing muggles peered at Harry with varying degrees of concern and irritation. Lily and James, however, seemed to be holding back laughter at their son's expression.

Lily snorted, covering her face with one hand even as she hurried over to help him up. "What in the world was that?"

“I don’t know.” Harry slapped a hand against the bricks. As most people would expect, nothing spectacular happened. “It’s closed up.”

Lily reached out, her knuckles tapping at the plain brick. She let out a thoughtful hum, and stepped closer. She angled her body towards Harry, as though ready to check for injuries, and pulled her wand from her sleeve. Another tap against the brick and she was slipping it back again. "That's odd. The train shouldn't leave for at least another ten minutes..."

James brushed Harry off while Lily checked the wall, chuckling as Harry squirmed. “Impressive fall, mate.”

“Shut up.”

"Solid ten out of ten on the dismount." Lily agreed.

“I hate you.” Harry grumbled, looking apologetic immediately after the words left his mouth.

“Fine, then we’ll leave you here.” James shrugged. “Easy enough. We’ve got more than enough of you already.”

"Then Remus would be cross with us." Lily stepped away from the brick, moving to gather up the fallen books from Harry's trolley.

“Well, Remus would less mad in the long run.” James tossed a few books back onto the trolley, grinning as they landed where he intended for them to. “Seeing as we’d have given him one less reason to be mad, overall.”

"More, I'd say. Then Sirius would take Harry in and they'd have to deal with him on a regular basis." She smoothed down her son's hair, chuckling at his expression. "Come on, you can get to Hogwarts with Appa. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company."

“I guess. I can probably scare Ron.” Harry brightened up at the idea of scaring his best friend. “He’ll probably think I’ve gone and died or something, if I don’t show.”

“That’s the spirit.” James ruffled Harry’s hair. “Although I’d advise against the telling your friends you’re dead, thing. Tends not to work out too well.”

"Don't do it to your wife, either, if you end up with one." Lily threw a pointed look towards her husband.

“I’m sure I won’t be that bad.” Harry shrugged.

"You're too much like your father for your own good." Lily sighed.

“Lily.” James groaned. “See, up until this very moment, there was still a tiny, tiny, miniscule chance that he could grow up to be a Potions loving nerd like his mother. And now it’s gone.”

“I hate Potions.” Harry shuddered.

“Proof.” James shook his head. “We’re all dead.”

"There's always Sarah." Lily decided.

“There’s always Sarah.” James nodded.

“Why couldn’t I have gotten better parents?” Harry pulled a face. “You’re so mean.”

"Love you too, sweetheart." She planted a kiss on top of his head before setting off for the exit.

Harry pushed his trolley back towards the exit, grimacing. There was no telling what would happen after this. His parents would probably tell his siblings he’d been expelled or something.

Like they needed more ammunition against him. 

* * *

Ron stared through the window as the train pulled away. He could see his parents in the sea of faces, still waving frantically (he assumed at Ginny, a few cars down). "I didn't see Harry getting on."

“I didn’t see him on the train anywhere.” Hermione sat across the compartment from Ron, fiddling with her fingers. “He wasn’t on the platform either.”

"How's he supposed to get to school if he isn't on the train?" Ron asked anxiously. "Will he get expelled? You probably memorized the rules, Hermione, you should know!"

“You can’t get expelled for not showing up, I don’t think…” Hermione frowned. “But it’s Harry. You never know.”

Ron groaned, threading his hands through his hair. "I guess if Fred and George haven't been kicked out get, Harry'll be fine... Probably."

“Probably.” Hermione agreed, looking out the window. “...You don’t suppose he’s hurt or anything, right?”

"Nah. If he can survive after last year, it'll probably take ages to actually kill him." Ron slouched back against the seat.

“Good point.” Hermione nodded.

"So... Uh... Have a good summer?" Ron hedged after a moment of silence.

“My parents and I went on a trip together, when they could get a week off from work.” Hermione nodded. “It was alright.”

"Where'd you go?" He kicked his legs out, propping them up on the empty seat opposite him.

“Somewhere sunny.” She shrugged. “France, I think?”

"You don't even know where you went?" He tilted his head to the side, looking torn between confusion and envy. "Must not have been a very good trip."

“It’s hard to tell your parents about what you’ve done all year when you don’t want them worried.” Hermione frowned. “They don’t know too much about magic, so… it’s hard to talk about things like… most everything that happened last year.”

"Most years aren't like that." Ron assured her. "Which is great, because I don't fancy getting thrown off a giant stone horse a second time. Maybe something smaller? Or not at all."

“Not at all sounds much better.” Hermione smiled. “Maybe we’ll have a good, normal year this time around. Plenty of time to get our assignments done.”

"I take it back. Suddenly the horse sounds appealing again." Ron let out a bark of a laugh.

“It isn’t that hard, Ronald.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “If you’d just apply yourself…”

"I do that! I apply myself to the couch in the common room when I take a nap." He shot back.

“Ronald.” Hermione groaned.

"Hermione." He sighed.

“So, what did you do this summer?”

He shrugged. "Didn't go to France, that's for sure. Just... Stayed at home? Played quidditch a bunch, but since Charlie isn't home anymore and Percy stays in his room there aren't really enough of us for a decent game." He brightened slightly. "Ginny was real excited about getting to come to Hogwarts, though. Wouldn't stop talking about it."

“She seems nice.” Hermione nodded. “What subjects do you think she’ll like?”

"I dunno about subjects, but she's gonna try out for the Quidditch team next year." He nodded as though in agreement with himself. "She used to steal some of the extra brooms outta the shed when mum wouldn't let her play with us."

“That’s incredible.” Hermione looked quite astonished. “She must be good.”

"Best chaser in the Weasley family!" Ron's chest puffed out in pride. "Course I'm pretty good at being keeper, and its impossible to go up against the twins when they play beaters. Hey!" He leaned forward, excitement clear on his face. "You should try playing with us sometime!"

“No thanks.” Hermione shuddered. “Heights aren’t… I’m not good at that.”

"Oh... That's fine." He rubbed at the back of his neck, valiantly attempting not to look disappointed. "You can still watch us sometime, if you want ."

“I’m fine with watching and all.” Hermione shrugged. “I just don’t want to be up there myself.”

"I dunno. I kinda like it. Bill is always talking about how its like being on top of the world or something."

“Literally on top of the world, I suppose.” Hermione joked.

"Ha! Yeah!" He laughed. "Maybe that's why Harry likes it so much."

“Maybe.” Hermione nodded. “He sure does like flying. Maybe because Professor Potter played when he was at Hogwarts.”

"I think Mr. Potter's kinda the reason he started, but the obsession is all Harry. Besides, Chasing and Seeking are totally different." He said. "Cause I've been to their house, and Anne and Matt won't go near a broom. Well... Anne hit Drew with one once, but that doesn't count."

“That’s terrifying.” Hermione shuddered. “With all you two say about your siblings, I’m a little glad I don’t have any.”

"Be grateful. I'm always paranoid the twins are gonna throw spiders on me while I'm sleeping." Ron groaned, glancing at the compartment door as though expecting his brothers to be lurking there with a bucket of arachnids.

“Spiders?” Hermione frowned.

"Spiders." He confirmed solemnly. "Transfigured my teddy bear into one when I was a kid once. A big one."

“That’s horrible.” Hermione shuddered. “And your parents didn’t do anything?”

"Course they did! They were grounded for a month." Ron shook his head as though attempting to clear out the memory. "It sucked, but they're my brothers. I'm kinda stuck with 'em."

“A month doesn’t seem like enough for something that traumatic…” Hermione frowned.

"They were like seven. Try and keep them cooped up any longer and they woulda knocked the house down." Ron shrugged.

“Fred and George did that at seven?” Hermione looked surprised. “No wonder they’ve gotten to where they are now.”

"Is that a big deal?" He blinked, looking equally surprised. "Seems like all my brothers were doing weird magic stuff when we were little. Blimey, Ginny turned herself purple for almost two days once."

“I read Matilda once and floated books off of shelves.” Hermione said, shrugging. “In the public library.”

"A muggle one, right?"

“A muggle library.” Hermione confirmed. “In hindsight, it wasn’t the best choice.”

"Well, it wasn't like you meant to." He pointed out. "Little kids don't have much control over their magic at first."

“Oh, no, I meant to.” Hermione shrugged.

"Oh. Then you figured it out? Or did you just... Decide to give it a try?"

“Matilda did it. So I did it.”

"Who's Matilda?" He kicked his feet, eyebrows going up.

“You haven’t read Matilda? Oh, it’s a wonderful book! It’s about a little girl who can move things with her mind!”

"So she's a witch?"

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

"Didn't you say this was a muggle book?" He looked confused, fingers tugging at the sleeves of his over sized jacket.

“A muggle book, yeah.” Hermione shrugged. “But her family hates her magic and she finds a teacher who supports her. So she runs away to the teacher and lives happily ever after.”

"Who'd wanna live with a teacher? Ick!" Ron scrunched up his nose, freckles crinkling with the motion. "I mean... 'Cept Harry, but he doesn't have a choice."

“I guess if your family’s bad enough, then you’d take anyone.” Hermione shrugged.

"Your family doesn't seem that bad. Didn't even falter when dad asked them all those questions about funny muggle stuff, back at Diagon Alley." Ron pointed out.

“I’ve gotten lucky.” Hermione nodded. “Not everyone does.”

Ron seemed to mull over her words, thinking on his own family. For all their faults, between the twins blowing anything in their reach up, Percy proclaiming himself far too busy for the rest of them, his own arguments with Ginny, they were still pretty great. At least Ron thought so, not that he'd ever say it out loud. "Yeah." He agreed, "guess not.."

“We’re almost here.” Hermione stood up suddenly, climbing up onto her seat to reach her trunk. “We should get changed.”

Ron followed suit, yanking his trunk down from the overhead compartment. He spent a moment rummaging through his things before producing a wad of clothing that seemed to be his robes.

"I'll be back in a bit." He said, before exiting the compartment.

Hermione sighed, shutting her trunk before dropping her neatly folded uniform onto the seat. Hopefully Harry would turn up at the feast.

She didn’t think Ron could handle it much longer. 

* * *

“ _Hari, no running in the halls!_ ” James called out, as Harry sped ahead, eager to get to the feast. He was sure Ron and Hermione would be worrying, since he’d been unable to let them know where he was at all. The Sorting was likely over, as they’d been held up at home by an Incident involving an accidental Engorgement Charm, the family cat and Spike Potter the Fifth. Harry shuddered at the thought as he picked up his pace, and nearly bumped into a professor for it.

His least favorite professor.

"Mister Potter." The words were cold and sharp. Snape seemed to emerge from the shadows, his ever-present scowl resting firmly on his face.

“Professor Snape.” Harry froze in place. “I was on my way to the feast.”

"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to make the motion look mocking. "And just what, exactly, were you doing away from it to begin with?"

“Dad brought me, so I just got here.” Harry shrugged. “So I was on my way, and then you showed up.”

His narrowed eyes did nothing to hide the fact he thought Harry was lying. "It would be most unfortunate to start your year off so poorly, Mister Potter. Gryffindor can hardly afford to lose more points on your account."

“So poorly?” Harry frowned in confusion. “What?”

"You wouldn't want to miss any more of the feast." He disregarded Harry's question. "Though I doubt you'll have half a mind to care. Good evening, Mister Potter." Once the condescending tone had tapered off to silence, he brushed past Harry and stalked down the hall menacingly.

“Well, this year’s already worse than last year.” Harry muttered, trudging off toward the Great Hall.

With his luck, the food was probably already gone.


	4. Expelliarmus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Day two and I’m already in the hole.” Harry muttered, setting his bag down at one of the stations. “Great.”

The greenhouse loomed closer, and Ron let out a groan. "We're late! Ugh. I should have seen this coming."

“You’d be on time for once if you didn’t sleep in so much!” Hermione huffed, trying her best to keep up. She’d spent nearly half an hour waiting for Ron and Harry to stumble down the stairs, half an hour which she could have spent a million and a half other ways, like actually getting breakfast. “When the alarm rings, you get up. Simple enough.”

“Says the only child who hasn’t had to deal with siblings and fake alarms.” Harry grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “And now I have to get up for plants.”

"When are we ever going to need practical knowledge on plants?" Ron grumbled, slowing to a trot as their feet made contact with gravel.

“It’s very useful for emergency medical treatment, survival skills and--”

“What Ron’s trying to say is that he doesn’t care.” Harry sighed, pulling the greenhouse door open. “Leave it, really. No one’s winning today.”

"Glad you could join us, children. That'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor." Professor Sprout sighed at their entrance, a fond sort of irritation clear on her face. "Take your places, then."

“Day two and I’m already in the hole.” Harry muttered, setting his bag down at one of the stations. “Great.”

"We'll never win the house cup. Those bloody snakes'll take it from us again." Ron whispered to his companions.

“Hey, if we win even one year out of seven, we have my parents beat.” Harry shrugged. “We still have… five more chances?”

"You're counting us out of the running already?" A new voice whispered. Dean Thomas was leaning over the table with a smile. "We still have the whole year left."

“Good point.” Harry nodded. “It’s only September. We’ve got time.”

"Now, class! Today we'll be repotting Mandrake plants. Can anyone tell me what those are?" Professor Sprout called from the front of the greenhouse.

“A Mandrake, otherwise known as Mandragora, is a plant from the Nightshade family.” Hermione began speaking before raising her hand, but put it up belatedly just in case. “Its cry is fatal to anyone who hears it, when full grown. Their leaves can be used in a lot of Potions and they are especially valuable as a primary ingredient in antidotes.”

"Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor for that lovely explanation."

"Back in the running." Dean teased, nudging a snickering Seamus in the side.

"Luckily for you, we'll be using baby Mandrakes for today's activity." She gestured towards the earmuffs on the table. "Groups of four, children."

Harry looked to Neville, who was chattering excitedly with two Hufflepuff girls who Harry vaguely recognized and one of the Muggleborn boys in their year.

Looks like Neville wasn’t an option.

As soon as he looked away from Neville, a curly haired blond boy rushed up to them before extending his hand to Harry.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley.” He said, and Harry shook his hand slowly. “You’d be Professor Potter’s son, aren’t you?”

“I really hope so.” Harry frowned.

“And you’d be Hermione Granger! You had the best grades last year, didn’t you?” Justin grinned brightly at Hermione before turning to Ron. “You are…?”

"Chopped liver, apparently." He grumbled. "Ron Weasley."

“You look like you need a fourth man, so I’ll join.” Justin turned to the eight pots, four empty and four with a Mandrake each in them, that were on the table. “My name was down for Eton before they let me in here, and I doubt they do anything like this there!”

"The mandrakes might not knock you dead, but they'll still knock you out without proper protection. Go on. Earmuffs on everyone." Sprout ordered.

“Yeah”, Harry muttered, “they might not, but this bloke might.”

He put his earmuffs on, making sure they were on tight, before reaching out for the leaves sticking out of the pot. They didn’t look too dangerous. He grasped the stem hard and pulled, only to come face to face with the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. The Mandrake plant he’d picked looked something like a cross between a baby and a really smelly tree. Like an Enting. If this is what Entings looked like, no wonder the Entwives left. “Gross.”

Ron's face mirrored his sentiment, and he wrinkled his nose. "Ugh... I'm glad we don't have to look at 'em fully grown." He decided.

Harry dropped his in the empty pot, quickly throwing as much dirt as he could over it. He didn’t have to hear it to know it was screaming, and he’d heard enough screaming babies for a lifetime.

The class worked steadily, though they had to pause when one of the Gryffindors collapsed, and soon they were all covered in a healthy coating of dirt. Soon enough, all the Mandrakes had been repotted, and everyone waited as Sprout made her rounds, checking each one. It was vital that the Mandrakes were repotted properly, or they’d start screaming even more.

"I think I've gone deaf." Ron exclaimed loudly after Sprout had checked that each of their Mandrakes was packed neatly away in their pot of soil.

“If you’d put your earmuffs on tighter, you wouldn’t have that problem.” Harry nudged Ron with his elbow. “Look at Ron Weasley, so cool that he doesn’t need to follow directions. Ooh.”

"What? I can't hear you over the sound of stupid- oh wait! That's you!" He snickered, answering his friend's nudge with one of his own.

“We’ve got McGonagall next, so you might want to tone it down.” Hermione’s threat was rendered completely ineffective by the fact that she was smiling. “Who knows what she’d do?”

“Oh, please, like she’d take points from me.” Harry grinned.

"Didn't she take over a hundred from you last year?" Ron pointed out.

“That was last year. I’m grown up now.” Harry nodded.

Ron nodded sagely in agreement as the trio trooped into the castle. "Definitely."

* * *

When Harry ran into the Defense classroom right after Transfiguration ended, Hermione and Ron just behind him, he was surprised to find all the tables pushed up against the wall. The last time they had a practical portion of anything, Seamus had blown up half the room.

“Nice job, you three. Solidly two minutes early.” James grinned, busy marshalling the students who’d arrived already into two lines. “Must be a record.”

"Do we get points for that?" Ron asked.

“No.” James snorted.

"Worth a shot?" The redhead grinned at the professor.

“Anyway, pair up. We’re learning a defensive spell today, for disarming. Anyone know what the incantation is?” James looked around the room.

Harry’s hand shot up just as fast as Hermione’s for once.

“Great. Two out of thirty. Good start.” James nodded. “For the rest of you, you do a spiral movement with your hand, like this.” He demonstrated the movement, ending it with his wand pointed at Harry. “And then say Expelliarmus.” Harry’s wand soared out of his hand and into James’.

Snickering could be heard from a crowd of Slytherins, and Draco grinned wickedly out at Harry.

“No one’s asking you to be friends here, but you should at least try to be civil. That, Mr. Malfoy, means that you wait until the teacher isn’t listening to laugh at your classmates.” James remarked cheerfully. “Just a thought. Pair up within your houses.”

Ron glanced at Harry. He was already rolling his eyes at Draco's petulant expression. "Your dad is seriously the coolest."

“I’m not talking to you.” Harry scrunched up his nose. “Hermione, help me out here?”

“You should find a new partner, _Ronald_.” Hermione laughed, lining up opposite Harry.

"Hey!" He protested. His face scrunched up briefly in annoyance, and he grumbled as he went to find someone who had yet to partner up.

“Serves him right.” Harry grinned. “Calling my dad cool? Who’d make that mistake?”

“Alright, kids on the left cast Expelliarmus and only Expelliarmus on three!” James called out. “One, two--”

“Explarmus!” Seamus Finnigan called out, causing the first of many small fires he would set this year. Dean Thomas, whose socks were burning, was not as amused.

The Slytherins, on the other hand, seemed to be incredibly entertained by this turn of events. Or at least the ones who were hooting and hollering were.

“Well, I suppose we’ve all learned what not to do, haven’t we?” James scratched his head, quickly extinguishing the fire afterward. “Expelliarmus. Say all of it. On three. One, two, three.”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled, grabbing Hermione’s wand out of the air as it sailed toward him. “Yes!”

“Well done. Ten points to Gryffindor for getting it first.”

"Looks to me like someone’s been practicing." Draco sniffed, his voice quiet but sharp in an attempt to keep James from hearing. "Taking advantage of your daddy being the teacher, Potter?"

“Or maybe you’re just too stuck up to realize that I’m just _better_.” Harry said, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear.

"In your dreams." Draco sneered.

“Alright, give the wands back and try again, then.” James called out, and Harry tossed Hermione’s wand back over to her. Hermione was spectacular at many things, but catching thrown objects was not one of them.

Ron, who was a few feet away, stared intensely at Lavender Brown, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“One wrong move and I’ll end you, Weasley.” Parvati Patil called out, from a few pairs down. Harry winced. He’d known Parvati since they were babies, and she wasn’t one to make threats that she wouldn’t go through with.

"Merlin's beard, I know how to handle a wand!" Ron exclaimed. "It isn't that hard."

“ _Sure_ , Ron.” Harry winked at Parvati, who laughed. “Of _course_ you can.”

Spurred by their comments, he let out a huff and twirled his wand in the spiral pattern Professor Potter had demonstrated. Lavender's wand went soaring through the air. Despite the fact that he needed to lunge to the side to catch it, he grinned in triumph. "Ha!"

“Well done, Weasley.” James ruffled Ron’s hair. “This spell’s good in duels, but you aren’t to be having any of those for another few years.” He looked pointedly at Harry. “I can’t stress enough the importance of keeping practicing defensive spells within the classroom unless your life is legitimately in danger.”

“What if--” Harry raised his hand.

“No.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of the lunch period, and Harry motioned for Ron and Hermione to go on ahead, waiting until the room had emptied of his fellow classmates before approaching his father.

“God, Appa, are you really intent on embarrassing me in front of everyone?” He groaned, helping his father levitate the tables back into place. His fourth and fifth hour were free, so he might as well help put everything back together. He needed all the points he could get, really. “I mean, in front of Malfoy!”

“You got back on your feet much better than he could have even hoped for.” James shrugged, stepping back as all the tables arranged themselves neatly. “Besides, it’s Malfoy. What’s he going to do, threaten you with telling his father? From what I’m hearing, you and your mum have that part covered.”

“We didn’t fight him, honestly!” Harry pouted, crossing his arms. “Only told them both off a bit.”

“How much is a bit?” James raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “I figured. Maybe you should pray for some discretion this year, hm? Navarathri’s coming up.”

“Yeah, and I’ll ask Perumal to keep me out of detention while I’m at it.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t he probably have control over that too?”

“He’ll pull a few strings for you if you try a little hard, I guess. Considering he’s going to be surrounded by plastic dinosaurs in a few weeks, if Drew has his way, I’d start asking now.” James ruffled Harry’s hair. “Lunch doesn’t wait, kanna. Go on.”

“Sure.” Harry grabbed his book bag and made for the door. “You coming, Appa?”

“If you’ll still sit with your old man, definitely.” James nodded, following his son out of the classroom. “I’ve had enough of Snape’s conversational skills for a lifetime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my fellow Tamil kids out there, the Perumal joke was for you. My family tends to just stack up any kinds of toys on the Golu steps, leading to a lot of dinosaurs and not so many religious pictures, so that's always fun to see. I'd bet money that the Potters aren't too different, in that regard.
> 
> Never fear-- we catch up with the plot of the book next week. And boy, are you going to regret asking me when we're joining up with canon timeline.


	5. Eat Slugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do not use that word about anyone!” Harry dropped his broom before charging Malfoy. “You have no right!”
> 
> Draco looked a little green around the edges as he stepped back. His own broom dropped to the ground.
> 
> “Don’t say it ever again, you-- you--” Harry grabbed Malfoy by the collar before punching him right in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious warning for usage of blood purist slur toward a child. From this point on, we will be heavily addressing racism and blood purism and how they affect people separately and together. 
> 
> People often like to forget that Chamber of Secrets was about the unfair persecution of a twelve year old for a string of near murders he was not at all involved in by everyone he cares about and feels he should protect him, and all of the accusations made are based entirely upon speculation. 
> 
> We are not those people.

"Alright, I hope you lot are ready to work hard. Not just today, either! I've planned out a whole new training schedule for us this year. Even if we don't have the pitch, we'll be training every day." Oliver's long strides kept him at the head of the quidditch team as they crossed the grounds. "We're going to win the cup this year if it kills us!"

“Can we quit yet?” Fred called out. “I prefer being alive, thanks.”

"Not sure the bloody cup is worth all this work." George agreed.

“It’s only a few extra practices.” Harry shrugged. He was more excited than he’d like to admit about being up in the air again. “It’ll be fun.”

"That's the spirit!" Oliver clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, grinning down at the second year. Harry practically beamed with pride, actually enjoying the spotlight being on him for once. Usually, he was being made an example of for doing something ridiculously inadvisable, or in the case of Potions class, existing. "You all could learn a thing or two from Potter."

“We could, but then we’d be staring at you all the time too.” Fred muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs from Harry. “Hey, Potter, quit it!”

"Yeah, Potter, stay in line!" George snickered, throwing an arm over Harry's shoulders.

"Will both of you can it?" Angelina Johnson, one of the Chasers, groaned. Her mouth was pulled up in a smile despite her words, though, and everyone was well aware that she just liked messing with the twins.

"What in the...?" Oliver's statement trailed off as he squinted his eyes. "Is that the Slytherin quidditch team?"

Harry nodded, recognizing Slytherin’s captain, Marcus Flint, by his angry expression. “That’s them.”

Marcus sped up as the Slytherins approached the other team. "What do you think you're doing, Flint? We have the pitch reserved for this afternoon."

“We have a note from Professor Snape.” Marcus held out a piece of parchment. “We’ll be needing it to train our new Seeker.”

Oliver snatched the paper away in order to scrutinize the neat lettering. "You have a new Seeker?"

There were amused glances shared between the Slytherin before a voice piped up, "that would be me." And a blonde head appeared. Draco smirked at Oliver before casting a glance towards Harry.

“Malfoy?” Harry blinked in surprise. Malfoy made the team? He was a good flyer, Harry would give him that, but Malfoy didn’t seem like the type to work with others on... well, anything.

"Were you expecting your mum, Potter?" He sneered.

“Yeah, at least playing her would be fun.” Harry grinned. “Bet your mum plays a better game than you do.”

Draco stepped forward, anger twisting his features, but one of the Slytherin beaters placed a hand on his shoulder. He scowled at the upperclassman and shrugged the grip off. "You'll eat those words soon enough."

“Before or after you lose the game, Malfoy?” Harry called out.

Before Draco could reply, another set of figures hurried over. Hermione was in the lead with Ron hot on her heels.

"Hey, Fred, I think I recognize that one." George sighed.

“Ten Galleons that he’s one of us.” Fred shook his head. “I’m not sure if I want to win that bet.”

"Oh, shut it." Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, what's going on?"

“Malfoy’s bought his way onto the team, looks like.” Harry frowned, pointing at Malfoy’s broom. “Check out those brooms.”

"Blimey." He whispered in an attempt to keep the Slytherins from hearing his awe. "Those are Nimbus 2001s!"

"You've probably never seen something this expensive in your life. Try not to drool on them, Weasley." Draco sniffed. "My father just bought them for the team."

"Are you trying to start a fight, mate?" George frowned.

He was stopped from drawing his wand by Oliver's raised hand.

"I'll be taking this up with Professor Snape. You can't just go around taking our practicing time." Oliver said.

“You’ll be needing the practice, I’d imagine.” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Everyone on the Gryffindor team is there because their earned their place through talent. So, obviously, your team needs the pitch more, seeing as your Seeker literally bought his way on.”

"Why don't you shut your know-it-all trap, mudblood?" Draco snapped, his grip tightening around his broom.

Ron let out a sound somewhere between a shout and a gasp, shoving past Oliver to get closer to Draco. "How dare you!"

"Are you going to do something about it?" Came the retort.

"You'd be more of a bloody idiot than I thought if you think I won't!" Ron whipped his wand out of his robes.

"You don't have the guts." Draco squared his shoulders despite the nervous light in his eyes.

"Why don't you eat slugs, Malfoy!" He roared.

“Do not use that word about anyone!” Harry dropped his broom before charging Malfoy. “You have no right!”

Draco looked a little green around the edges as he stepped back. His own broom dropped to the ground.

“Don’t say it ever again, you-- you--” Harry grabbed Malfoy by the collar before punching him right in the face.

His face twisted up as though he were about to start spitting insults. Instead of sharp words, however, something entirely different spewed from his mouth. A fat slug dropped from between his lips, and Draco was already gagging on another as it hit the grass.

"It worked?!" Ron's surprise quickly turned to triumph. "How do you like that, Malfoy?"

Harry shoved Draco over roughly, privately hoping that he might choke on one of the slugs. One less Malfoy would do the world some good.

"What in the world is going on here?" A voice called coldly. Snape swept in, his eyes narrowing at Harry before sweeping down to Draco. His hooked nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight.

“Professor, Potter’s attacked our Seeker.” Marcus Flint called out. “Seems he doesn’t respect authority enough to let our team have the pitch.”

“He provoked me!” Harry yelled. “He called Hermione-- he used the m word, Professor!”

"Is it true you attacked Mister Malfoy?" He asked, ignoring Harry's statement.

“I only attacked him because he insulted my friend!”

"And you thought your justice better than that which could be dealt by a professor?" Snape stared down at the student. "Under no circumstances are you to act with such rash behavior. Detention, Potter."

“Detention?” Harry frowned. “But I didn't do anything..."

"Two detentions. Care to make it three?"

"But he's telling the truth!" Ron protested.

“Malfoy says something blatantly blood purist to another student and gets nothing, but I get mad about it and get two detentions?” Harry fumed. “None of this is fair! I hope you choke on that slug, Malfoy!”

According to the noises coming from the Slytherin, that was a distinct possibility.

"Don't make assumptions when you're already in a dangerous situation, boy." Snape warned. "Flint. Help me escort Mister Malfoy to the hospital wing."

“Yes sir.” Flint smirked at Harry as he helped Malfoy up. “Keep this record going, Wood, and we might not have to play you at all.”

Oliver watched as Draco was helped to his feet and lead back to the castle, a trail of slugs left behind him. "... I reckon practice is canceled." George mumbled.

“I hate him.” Harry ground out, glaring at Malfoy’s back. “I hate him and I hope he swallows one of those things.”

"Come on." Ron mumbled. "Let's... Let's go to Hagrid's or something." He grabbed one of Hermione's hands in his own, grasping Harry's with the other. He quickly pulled them away and the trio set off across the grounds.

Hermione, who was stubbornly fighting tears, tried to smile when Harry grabbed her hand in his own.

“I’m going to murder him, you just watch.” Harry declared, as they made it to Hagrid’s.

“Don’t put yourself in jail over Draco Malfoy.” Hermione reached over to ruffle his hair. “There are better causes.”

"I don't know." Ron grumbled darkly. "Bet we wouldn't get caught if Fred and George helped."

Hagrid, having heard the commotion on his doorstep, opened the door, expecting three cheerful children. “Why the long faces?” Hagrid said, immediately shifting from enthusiasm to worry. Harry looked much like Aragog did when hungry and Hermione was a second from bursting into tears, which qualified as a catastrophe in his book.

"Malfoy." Ron told him simply. "We... Didn't know where to go."

“Malfoy?” Hagrid frowned, stepping aside so Ron could usher his friends in. “What’s he done this time?”

“He called Hermione… He called Hermione the m word.” Harry, still shaking with anger, stared out Hagrid’s window. “And no one did a thing about it. Snape gave me two detentions for punching Malfoy, but he says something horrible to Hermione and gets off free!”

“They’ve yet to think up a spell our Hermione can’t do, so insulting her is probably the only way he can get at her.” Hagrid patted Hermione on the shoulder. “He wouldn’t last a second if our Hermione decided to show him what a real fight looked like.”

“Hagrid, it’s not like that.” Hermione said, finding a stool in the corner before plopping down on it miserably. “I thought that was all… over and done with.”

“It’s never over and done with, Hermione.” Hagrid smiled sadly. “There’ll always be bad folk like the Malfoys, thinking they’re better than everyone else for some silly reason or the other that doesn’t help them out in the end.”

"Someone should put them in their place." Ron said. He stood near the empty fireplace, arms crossed and eyes blazing angrily.

“See, Ron, you can say that and no one’ll murder you for it.” Harry snorted.

"But its true!" He looked surprised. "He's being a... A total arse! You know it and I know it, and Hermione knows it too! I... I don't get it."

“We know it.” Hermione nodded. “We just… you saw what happened. I’m surprised I didn’t get a detention for just being nearby.”

“Draco started the fight, but everyone came after me. Not even the Gryffindor team stood up for me.” Harry looked to Ron. “It’s not as easy to do these things as you think it is.”

The redhead deflated, nodding. "Yeah... Guess so. He still deserved it more, though."

“Yeah, well, Malfoy’s likely going to get praised for getting me a few detentions.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Not to mention how mad my parents are going to get over this.”

“I have some rock cakes in the oven if yer going to stay awhile.” Hagrid motioned to the kitchen.

“Hagrid, I love you, but no.” Harry pulled a face. “You know who’d want one though?”

“Who?”

“Malfoy.”

* * *

Harry sped down the hallway to the dungeons, nearly tripping over his own shoelaces in an attempt to reach Snape’s office on time. He knocked on the door at precisely eight, glad he’d made it on time, and waited for Snape to create some fresh hell for him. Hopefully it was cleaning cauldrons. He could do that.

The door swung inwards, revealing the professor hunched over his desk. A quill was in his hand, and he barely glanced up.

“Professor?”

"Are you going to loiter in the doorway or come inside?"

“Come inside.” Harry grumbled, trudging up to Snape’s desk.

"A wise choice." He still didn't look up. He allowed the silence to stretch on for several minutes, broken only by the scratch of his quill against parchment. "You'll be scrubbing out cauldrons. Put on gloves. It would be a shame if you get burned."

“I’ll get on that, then.” Harry grabbed the gloves from the cupboard they were kept in before setting to work on his first cauldron.

It felt like hours were passing, as he scrubbed away at one cauldron and then the next and the next, but Snape was not the type to have clocks lying around and Harry had taken his watch off before bed three nights ago and simply forgotten to put it back on.

Snape never looked up or acknowledged Harry's presence as the night wore on. He seemed to be completely focused on his parchment. Hours wore on in such a manner, until finally he set his quill down in order to watch Harry with barely concealed contempt.

Suddenly, a voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, scaring him enough to drop the cauldron he was currently cleaning out.

"Come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you…"

“Professor?” Harry asked, very much confused. The voice had disappeared just as quickly as it had spoken. “Did you hear that?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

“A voice. Just now.” Harry looked around the room, which was empty save for himself and Snape. If he’d been home, he’d have assumed that Anne and Sarah were at him again, but, for some reason, he was quite sure two eight year olds could not have come up with a voice this unnerving.

Snape watched him silently for a long moment. "Perhaps I have kept you too long. If you're hearing things, it's obviously far past the time you should be asleep." He waved a hand dismissively, as though willing Harry to dissipate into the air.

“Your cauldrons are clean, at least. So somebody wins.” Harry shrugged. Now that Snape had mentioned it, he was feeling pretty tired. And hearing voices was hardly the weirdest thing he’d done when tired. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if it made the top ten.

"It was a punishment for your behavior, and I'll have you remember that." Snape stood, a roll of parchment now held in one hand. "Try to shape up, Mister Potter. We wouldn't want a repeat performance."

“I’ll keep myself in order if Malfoy does the same, Professor.” Harry said cheerily, making a run for it before Snape could assign him a second detention.

By the time he climbed into bed, he’d almost forgotten that he’d heard the voice at all.

 


	6. The Deathday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think flooding is the worst of our worries.” Hermione said slowly, pointing at a spot just a few feet further along the wall, and Harry blinked in surprise as he noticed what she was showing them.

October was always a hellish month, and even more so now that it was raining all the time.

Harry, who had just gotten out of Quidditch practice, trudged down the hall, looking more like a half-drowned rat than a student, and hardly even noticed that he’d walked through Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor Ghost, until Nick yelled out for him to watch where he was going.

“Sorry, Sir Nicholas.” Harry turned back around, hoping to keep the ghost from getting too angry. All the ghost stories he knew usually ended in kidnappings and deaths, and after the end of last year, he was eager to avoid those. “I didn’t see you there."

"Alas, such are the woes of the undead." Sir Nicholas sighed. "Nobody ever seems to see you."

“Well, if it helps at all, I’m here.” Harry shrugged. He wasn’t sure how ghost emotions worked, but if they were anything close to human emotions, he might succeed. Might. “What’s bothering you?”

"I've been rejected from the Headless Hunt." The ghost looked away, letting out another tragic sigh. "On account of the fact that I'm only nearly headless."

“How are you only nearly headless?” Harry asked, the queasy feeling building in the pit of his stomach telling him that he may not enjoy the answer.

Sir Nicholas raised an eyebrow at Harry's inquiry, as though shocked he didn't know. Instead of responding verbally, he dropped his head to one side. It hung there by a chunk of flesh like some sort of demented trapdoor.

“That sounds… really rough.” Harry winced. “So they won’t let you join the Headless Hunt because you can’t… hunt your own head?"

"Oh how dreadful!" He cried. "Doomed to an eternity of longing! Of waiting to be accepted by my peers! I'm ashamed."

“Obviously, I can’t help with your head or anything, but if there’s anything else…” Harry noticed a tail rounding the corner down the hall, groaning once he realized he’d tracked mud in. Filch would have him in detention for sure. “Listen, Sir Nicholas, it was great talking but I’ve got to run.”

"Yes, this was a pleasant chat... Say, Harry, I would be quite chuffed if you would perhaps attend my five hundredth deathday party? It's sure to be a grand celebration." He nodded, head wobbling dangerously. "But if you must be off, be off! Be sure to tell any you see about my obvious talent, and that I deserve to be in the Headless Hunt. Never hurts to have a few words of encouragement."

“Can do!” Harry nodded eagerly before taking off down the hallway. “God, I hope I don’t--”

Turning the corner he was met with a looking figure. Filch grinned down at him, though the expression was far too smug to be genuine. His hair was greasy enough to rival Snape's, and had been slicked back. Beady eyes stared intently at the student. "Well, well, well, what have we here? Looks like someone's been making a mess." He hummed. Spindly fingers shot out to grab Harry by the upper arm, and soon he was being dragged through the halls. "Sounds like a detention to me!"

The pair quickly made their way through winding halls, and were in a small office several floors down. "Now let me see... Where do I keep those detention slips?"

Harry grimaced at the thought of yet another detention on his record, but was saved by the sound of a large explosion a ways down the hallway. Probably Fred and George. Filch, who ran off to combat this latest injustice done to his precious hallways, didn’t even have time to threaten Harry to stay there or suffer the consequences before a second explosion sounded. Definitely Fred and George. Harry suddenly noticed a large envelope on the desk, seal broken, and couldn’t resist the desire to peek at the header on the letter poking out.

“Kwikspell?” Harry frowned. Wasn’t that one of those courses for Squibs? Was Filch a Squib? His thoughts were interrupted by Filch running back in, looking just as harried as always.

His eyes frantically darted down to the envelope before narrowing dangerously. "Did you touch that, boy?" He snapped.

“Didn’t see a word of it, sir. It’s your envelope. Why would I look?” Harry lied smoothly, nodding eagerly to boost the innocent image. He was thankful he’d gotten the ability to lie with a straight face from his mother, because boy, would he be screwed if he’d taken after his father.

"Go. Go! Get out!" He snatched the envelope up, waving Harry away.

Harry sped off the minute Filch gave him the opportunity to leave, nearly running into Sir Nicholas a second time.

"Hello again." He smiled. "I hope you don't take too much offense with my assistance. I asked Peeves to... Cause a diversion. I had forgotten to tell you my party is on Halloween!"

“Halloween, huh?” Harry frowned slightly, before nodding. “I’ll be there. And, just for you, I’ll bring friends.”

"Splendid! You won't be disappointed, Harry. You'll have the time of your life," he chuckled. "Or perhaps... Your afterlife."

“I’m sure we will.” Harry grinned. “So, what do ghosts do at birthday parties anyway?”

* * *

Harry nervously straightened the collar of his shirt as they stood at the door to the dungeon the party was taking place in. “Well, everyone ready?”

"We're going to a birthday party for a ghost, Harry. I don't think I'll ever be ready." Ron mumbled.

Harry pulled open the door and was greeted by a rush of smells and sounds, none of which were particularly pleasant.

The tables were stacked high with rotting food, and Sir Nicholas’ choice in mood music seemed to be literal nails scratching down a line of chalkboards. The party, Harry supposed, must be quite wild, if you happened to be a ghost and into nail music.

“There are thousands of ghosts here!” Hermione exclaimed, looking around. “I’d read that it wasn’t too common, but I suppose they’ve come from all around England for this. I don’t imagine ghosts have too many social events.”

"Welcome, welcome!" Sir Nicholas swooped down to the trio, a broad grin etched across his features. "I was wondering when you would arrive. These must be your friends? It’s lovely to meet you." He bowed, one hand placed upon the crown of his head to keep it from flopping off. "You must try the snacks. They're quite delicious!"

Harry looked about the room, noticing ghosts dancing, passing through the tables and laughing loudly with their friends. However, one particular ghost, who looked about their age, did not seem to be enjoying herself. In fact, she was blubbering loudly at anyone who would spare her a moment.

“Don’t look at her too long. She’ll come talk to us then.” Hermione hissed, steering Harry and Ron in the opposite direction. “And, believe me, you don’t want that.”

"Ooooh oh oh? Someone doesn't want to talk to Myrtle!" Shrieked a new voice. Peeves grinned down at them nastily. "No one wants to talk to stupid Moaning Myrtle! Fat, ugly, _pimply_ Myrtle!"

He was cackling now, pointing at the girl, whose wails only grew louder as she floated off in the other direction.

"Hey! Why don't you shut your trap!" Ron protested. "She wasn't doing anything! There's no reason to call her names."

“Yeah!” Harry nodded emphatically. “Don’t do that to people, Peeves, it’s not nice.”

The poltergeist in question stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.  

"Here come the Headless Hunt." Sir Nicholas whispered breathlessly, though his distinct lack of oxygen made that strange in and of itself. The silverware on the tables began rattling violently. Soon ghosts were bursting from the walls, all sitting astride what appeared to be ghostly horses. None of them seemed to possess a head, though the bodies carried themselves with a regal air.

"Harry?" Ron grabbed his friend's sleeve, glancing about as though afraid the ghosts might overhear. That seemed unlikely, however, as Sir Nicholas had floated to the front of the room. He appeared to be giving a speech on his life and subsequent death. "I'm starting to get creeped out, and I really don't want to listen to some rubbish history lesson on a dead guy if I'm not getting graded on it. Can we leave?"

“Agreed.” Hermione shuddered. “We should tell Sir Nicholas that he throws a good party though, the next time we see him.”

“Which’ll be as long from now as we can take.” Harry grimaced. “Come on, let’s go.”

The trio hurried out of the dungeon as quickly and quietly as they could, as Sir Nicholas’ speech dragged on and on, and ran for the Gryffindor Tower. The feast was probably nearly over, and they would likely all be going to bed hungry tonight. Well, not Harry. He’d gotten care packages from both his father and the Patils for Deepavali just a few days earlier, and he was hardly going to share his sweets with his friends. Besides, if he wanted to trade with Parvati tomorrow, he needed to have at least something left to trade, and sharing wasn’t going to help that.

“ _Time to kill…_ ” The strange, sibilant voice that Harry had heard last a few weeks ago ran through the corridor, and Harry nearly stumbled back in surprise. “ _Tear… Rip… Kill…_ ”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione stared at him in surprise, grabbing her friend’s arm to steady him.

“We’ve got to go that way.” Harry said, pointing in the direction he’d heard the voice before running toward it, dragging Hermione along with him. “Something’s happening.”

The corridor in question was deserted, and the torches on the wall flickered oddly as they walked down it.

"Eugh!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "The hallway... It's flooded!" He stared down at his feet in dismay, finding that his socks had become soaked through his shoes.

“I don’t think flooding is the worst of our worries.” Hermione said slowly, pointing at a spot just a few feet further along the wall, and Harry blinked in surprise as he noticed what she was showing them.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware.” He had hardly noticed the worst of it until he saw an oddly shaped shadow on the wall, and looked to the torch the shadow seemed to be hanging from before he realized what he was staring at. Mrs. Norris looked to have been frozen, somehow, and was hanging by her tail from the metal bracket the torch was in. “Ron, Hermione, I think--”

Suddenly, the hallway was full of people. The feast seemed to have finally let out. Harry looked right and left, trying to find a way to escape trouble, but as his luck would have it, he was still right under the bracket when the teachers arrived.

"What's the filth done this time?" Draco sneered from the front of the crowd. “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

"Mrs. Norris!" Filch shrieked. "Mrs. Norris! He killed her! He killed my cat! Have him expelled, Professor Dumbledore!" He pointed accusingly at Harry.

“I didn’t-- I didn’t do anything to your cat! Honest!” Harry exclaimed, backing up a few steps. “She was like this when I got here!”

"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice rose, easily silencing the murmuring of the student's behind him. "Staff members and prefects will escort the students back to their dormitories for the night. Harry, Ron, Hermione. The three of you will stay with me. McGonagall, Snape, Filch. Perhaps a change of location?"

Harry trudged along behind the teachers, head hung and eyes on the ground, as Dumbledore led them into his father’s office, which was the closest one to the corridor.

The office hadn’t changed much in the last year-- the same picture of Harry and his siblings in the field behind their grandparents’ house was sitting in its frame on his father’s desk, right next to the one of his parents as seventh years-- but the strange assortment of Daily Prophet clippings and crayon drawings pinned to the wall were certainly more recent. Just as well, because the triplets were much better artists at seven than they were at six. A half-written lesson plan lay on the desk, a huge spot of ink left on the parchment where the quill had been dropped mid-thought, and Harry sighed, shaking his head at his father’s inattention.

McGonagall stood nearby, arms crossed across her chest. She seemed to be murmuring the message scrawled across the wall to herself.

Snape sneered down at the students. "Unacceptable." His words were nearly drowned out by Filch's blubbering sobs.

"Filch, calm yourself." Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder before moving past him. "I assure you Mrs. Norris isn't dead. She's only been petrified. I'll have Hagrid begin preparing the countermeasures forthwith. As it stands, such actions would be impossible for some second year students. Any students for that matter."

"He's got it out for me!" Filch wailed. "He saw! He saw it and now he's gone and killed Mrs. Norris!"

"You three were in an awfully strange place." Snape said slowly, eyes trained on Harry. "Especially considering the feast was underway..."

“Well, Professor, it _is_ the Halloween feast.” Harry fidgeted awkwardly. “There’s a pretty good reason for me not wanting to be there.”

His father had gone home this year rather than staying behind to keep an eye on him, and that in itself was enough incentive to skip. The Deathday Party had really been the icing on the cake, in that regard, keeping him busy rather than allowing him to dwell on things, like the voice he’d heard.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Potter." He hissed. "Perhaps you should remember the position you're in. Or perhaps your position on your house's Quidditch team?"

"That is enough, Severus." McGonagall snapped. "You have no jurisdiction over the Gryffindor team."

"Minerva is correct. This is enough. I believe the students were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time." Dumbledore sighed. "Children, feel free to return to your dormitories."

Harry eagerly made his way out of the room as soon as he was allowed, shuddering slightly as his wet shoes squelched against the stone floor. “That was weird.”

"Weird doesn't begin to cover it." Ron cast a glance back at the message on the wall.

“What did Filch think you saw, Harry?” Hermione frowned. “If it’s bad enough to make him think you’d murder his cat…”

“Filch… He had a Kwikspell catalog, Ron.” Harry looked to Ron, knowing he’d understand. However, what Ron said next had Harry grimacing.

"Filch is a Squib?" He wrinkled his nose. "Blimey. I should have guessed, with how weird he is. I've never actually seen him with a wand!"

“What’s a Squib?” Hermione asked, looking to Harry rather than Ron. She didn’t have to know what Ron was talking about to know the tone of voice he’d said it in-- one with which she was, unfortunately, quite familiar. Harry winced in sympathy, having heard it many times himself.

“You know how you’re a Muggleborn, right? You’ve got magic but your parents haven’t?” Harry said, after a moment’s thought. “Well, a Squib’s like a reverse Muggleborn. Your parents both have magic, but you’ve got none.”

“Why is not having magic worth being mean over?” Hermione asked, pointedly not looking at Ron. “Muggles get along just fine without magic.”

“Most people don’t really get that.” Harry shrugged, smiling at the Fat Lady as Ron said the password to let them into the Common Room. “That’s hardly the most important question, though. What’s the Chamber of Secrets?”

* * *

James checked the front door’s lock for the sixth time in the past half hour before going back to pacing the length of the living room, as he had been doing since he got home a good three hours ago.

A locked door wouldn’t deter Voldemort for too long, should he choose to come after them again tonight, but it’s not like there was a job to finish this time around. Harry was safe at Hogwarts. All he’d accomplish by coming here was, well, nothing. A man like that would hardly think anything of committing five murders, if there were even a chance that Harry might surrender because of it. James’ hand tightened around his wand, which was currently shoved through one of his belt loops.

Maybe he’d get lucky again and actually kill him off this time.

Lily was perched on the edge of the sofa. Her wand was shoved behind one ear, and her hands gripped tightly at an empty mug of what had once been tea. Her fingers tapped against the ceramic, and her eyes bounced between James and the stairs. Sarah and the triplets were asleep upstairs, having retired early after watching their parents worry the day away. She wanted to check on them, wanted to make sure they were still safely tucked away in their beds.

“So”, James began, wanting to break the silence somehow. He pulled his wand out of his belt loop, spinning it between his hands to distract himself. “Your day. How was it?”

"I can't tell if you're joking or not." She responded dryly.

“Why would I joke about something that serious?” James raised an eyebrow. “That’s Sirius’ job.”

"Sirius can't be serious to save his life." She groaned at her own joke, pressing the mug against her forehead. "I mostly just watched the kids. I think Matt was more freaked out by me being tense than anything else."

“Three out of four fine is a new record. Nicely done.” James nodded.

"What about Harry?" She asked.

“Seemed alright.” He shrugged. “Tense, but that’s to be expected. Got mad when I assigned reading instead of letting them do practical stuff.”

"He probably wanted to get some aggression out." She hummed. Her eyes darted over to the window again, as though she wanted to check the lock herself. She didn't stand up, though.

Eleven years of Halloweens were more than enough time to learn each other’s routines, and James was checking the window before she even thought to ask. “It’s good.”

"Thanks." She sighed. "... Do you want some tea?"

“I’m good.” He nodded, stopping his pacing to sit down beside her. “Eleven years. Wow.”

"Eleven years with nothing happening, and suddenly we send Harry off to school and we're ready to fall apart all over again." She dropped her head onto his shoulder as she spoke.

“If we’re this bad with just one out, imagine what messes we’ll be when we’re empty nesters.” James put an arm around her, running a hand through her hair. “Makes sense, though. Harry’s the one he’s looking for.”

"Yeah... Hogwarts is the safest place for him right now." She huffed out a breath, blowing her hair out of her face. "And we're better off sitting at home worrying about him."

“Not better, but we’re managing.” He kissed the top of her head. “Got more than enough here to distract us.”

"Like the four kids upstairs, or the one sitting next to me?" She snorted, her hand coming up to hold onto his.

“Both, probably.” He laughed, although it seemed forced. “Can’t have one without the other.”

"Well I'm pretty fond of both." She murmured softly. "So I guess we're in luck."

“God knows what I’d do if you weren’t.” James rolled his eyes, squeezing her hand a little tighter for a second. “Probably something stupid. I do that a lot.”

"You do that whether I'm around or not." She pointed out, a strained smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I’ve been on my best behavior since you’ve been around, though.” He cracked a smile, shaking his head. “Well, better behavior.”

"I guess that's all I can really ask for." She let out an exaggerated sigh before leaning closer to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll remind you about that the next time I’m in trouble.” He sighed, pulling himself away from her to check the locks again. He went back to his pacing after he’d made sure everything was as it should be, stopping for a second in panic when he realized his wand wasn’t where it usually was. He realized he’d dropped it on the couch a second later, letting go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held.  

Lily picked it up and silently offered it to him. She got to her feet, abandoning the empty mug as she trooped through the kitchen and towards the stairs. "I'm going to check on the kids."

“Right.” He called after her, eyes still on the door. “I’ll be here.”

She hesitated in the doorway, eyes lingering on her husband before she disappeared onto the upper level. Her footsteps were loud in the dark hallways, and she kept her wand at her side. She gently opened the first door, peering in to check on Sarah's sleeping form. Instead she was met with the sight of four very-much-awake children. They had huddled around Hedwig, and Matt was feeding the creature.

"Why aren't you in bed?" She sighed.

"We were! But then Hedwig flew into my window." Drew grinned.

"Harry killed a cat." Anne said matter-of-factly, yawning after she’d finished speaking.

“He didn’t kill the cat, Anne. At least not directly. The jokes he made about it probably did the job.” Sarah scowled. “Catricide and petrification in one sentence. Moderation. Seriously.”

"Your brother can't do anything in moderation. Especially bad jokes. He gets it from your father." Lily stepped inside. "Can I see the letter?"

Matt offered it to her and she gently tugged him to his feet. "You all need to be in bed. Hedwig, too." She advised.

“Are you and Appa going to be okay?” Sarah rubbed at her eyes before trudging over to her mother for a hug.

Lily's expression softened, and she gently smoothed down Sarah's hair. "We always are, aren't we? Now, come on. Off to bed."

Anne trailed out of the room, and Drew followed after her with another yawn. Matt paused only long enough to hug his mother goodnight and pat Hedwig one last time. Lily followed them out, shutting off Sarah's light behind her before trudging down the stairs again.

James, as promised, was standing exactly where she’d left him, still staring at the door. He turned suddenly, at the sound of someone coming down the stairs, wand in hand, but relaxed when he noticed it was only Lily. “I’m guessing no one was sleeping.”

"You'd guess correctly." She lifted the parchment as though in explanation, eyebrow raised.  "Harry wrote a letter, and Hedwig woke everyone up."

“Wrote a letter, did he?” James groaned. “What’s he done this time?”

"Guess there's only one way to find out." Lily drifted to the door in order to check the lock again before she began reading out loud.

> _Dear Mum,_
> 
> _Halloween sucks._
> 
> _You may be getting a letter from Dumbledore soon, because Filch is entirely convinced that I attacked and murdered his cat. Apparently I’m capable of committing catricide now, even though she’s really only petrified. I really, honestly, actually did not do it. I had detention with Snape! Why would I lie about having detention with Snape?_
> 
> _Point is, I didn’t kill a cat. The cat was there and I walked right up to it by accident. I promise._
> 
> _Hope everyone is doing well. Let Appa know that Paru and Padma say thank you for the sweets and also for embarrassing me, because they’re horrible and mean._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Harry_

“Well, he didn’t kill the cat.” James nodded. “Curiosity did.”

"Curiosity isn't going to be what kills you if you keep making terrible jokes." Lily warned teasingly.

“Going down because of a bad joke sounds much better than any other possibility.” James shrugged.

"Like father, like son." She sighed, tossing the letter onto the table. "I'm going to write a response."

“You’re going to need a bad joke better than catricide and petrified combined, you know.” James smiled. “Got to remind him who’s boss.”

"Good point."

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _I'm glad to hear you didn't kill a cat. I really don't know how I would react if you had, but I doubt it would be pleasant. On that note, please try to avoid whatever has petrified the cat. Your father and I want to avoid a repeat of the Philosopher's Stone Incident._
> 
> _I also realize that telling you to stay out of trouble is like telling a fish not to swim, but a mother can hope._
> 
> _Tell the girls we say hello, and that there's plenty more where everything else came from._
> 
> _Lots of love,_
> 
> _Mum_

“Poor kid did catch quite a bit of crap from Parvati though.” James chuckled. “They’re at each other’s throats all the time without Padma and Sarah to stop them.”

"Push comes to shove and they'll both hunt down anyone who's mistreating the other, though." Lily pointed out.

“Hopefully that sticks. You never know with sisters.” James shrugged. “All the ones I’ve got seem to enjoy throwing me directly into the path of trouble. Or goats. Whichever one is more accessible.”

"Don't I know it." Lily grumbled. "... About sisters. Not goats." Her mind momentarily flashed to. Petunia, and she set down her quill.

“Well, if you’d rather think about the goats…” James shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve told that one.”

Lily folded up the letter, leaving it on the table to send back with Hedwig in the morning, before turning to her husband, who seemed to be wondering whether telling the story would be more trouble than it was worth.

"I'm always up for a good goat story."


	7. The Bludger's Going Rogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let out a long suffering sigh before continuing. "As I was saying... Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin founded Hogwarts. Each set out to create their own house, accepting students they saw as the best and brightest. All was well for many years... Until Salazar suggested the exclusion of muggleborn students."
> 
> “Gross.” Harry muttered.

“Does anyone go to History of Magic to learn?” Harry dropped his book on the desk. It thumped loudly against the wood, and he privately hoped his desk would break so that he’d have some excuse to leave. “I sure don’t.”

"I'd say Hermione does, but she could probably teach the class herself at this point." Ron sat down heavily next to Harry, thankfully on his chair.

“I wouldn’t say I could teach it.” Hermione sighed, taking the free seat on Ron’s other side. “I’d teach what I knew better than this.”

“Who put a ghost in charge?” Harry grumbled, putting his head down on the desk. “Don’t we have enough live white men around here? Why do we need dead ones?”

"What do you pay a ghost with? Ghost money?" Ron propped his head on his hand, staring in confusion at the translucent form of their teacher. Professor Binns hovered at the front of the class, his voice a low drone as he spoke of the founders of Hogwarts.

Harry nearly fell asleep twice during the next ten minutes alone, having heard more than enough about the founders by the end of the Sorting Hat’s song. Last year. He just couldn’t stay awake in this class.

“Professor?” Hermione asked, suddenly rousing Harry from his third almost nap. “I was wondering… could you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?”

"... Excuse me, young lady?" His voice had taken a harsher tone, though it still managed to sound bored.

“The Chamber of Secrets, Professor.” Hermione nodded resolutely.

"That... Isn't part of the lesson. Though I don't suppose it would hurt anything." He let out a long suffering sigh before continuing. "As I was saying... Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin founded Hogwarts. Each set out to create their own house, accepting students they saw as the best and brightest. All was well for many years... Until Salazar suggested the exclusion of muggleborn students."

“Gross.” Harry muttered.

Binns spoke over the mutterings of the students, as though oblivious. "The founders fought over the suggestion, as the other three were opposed. Eventually Salazar left Hogwarts because of the rift that had grown. But before that, he built a secret chamber into the very heart of the school." His tone turned cold. "Inside he hid a monster. It was said that when the time came, it would wipe out all students who weren't pure of blood. Salazar spoke of the only one who could control the beast- his heir."

He cleared his throat. "Salazar's ra- ... His ethnicity..." He sighed now, and perhaps if he were less dead, he would have been sweating. "I don't wish to offend anyone..."

“Congratulations, you’re already doing it.” Harry sighed. “Fantastic.”

"I was merely implying," he coughed again, which seemed particularly useless due to his lack of functioning lungs, "that after he left, it is likely he returned to his home country."

"Excuse me?" Malfoy was frowning, now. "Home country?"

“Slytherin’s Pakistani, Malfoy.” Harry shot him a grin. “Welcome to the real world.”

"Where's... Pakistani?" A student near the front of the room piped up.

"Pakistan," Binns corrected, "is near India."

"Hear that, Potter?" Draco sneered. "I'd say maybe you were sorted into the wrong house, but there's no way you're good enough to be a Slytherin."

“And you were sorted into the right one?” Harry looked to Malfoy, smiling brightly. “We’ve all seen you in Charms, Draco.”

“Besides, Harry’s not even from near Pakistan.” Parvati spoke up. “Don’t you learn anything?”

"Certainly more than you lot." Draco made to stand, only to be cut off by Binns.

"Enough. It’s only folklore." He grumbled. "You've gone and wasted all our time on stories, so I hope you're all prepared for a quiz next class."

“A quiz?” Harry groaned. “See, this is why we don’t let Malfoy talk.”

* * *

“Let’s think about it-- the heir of Slytherin’s not Muggleborn, so that’s you and a couple others out, Hermione.” Harry said, as they strode down the corridor, still marked by the message the Heir had left. “They’ve got to be related to Slytherin, which has me out for sure. And they’re probably a Slytherin, which has all the Weasleys out.”

"You're making this way too complicated." Ron snorted. "Who do we know who's a huge racist arse, and embodies what is probably all the stuck-up, stupid rubbish that Slytherin represents?"

Harry said “Malfoy” just as soon as Hermione opened her mouth, presumably to tell them not to jump to conclusions, or some other rubbish.

"Hermione, give the boy a prize!" Ron began laughing.

“But how do we find out how he did it?” Harry scratched his head. “I mean, this is Malfoy. He won’t make it easy for us.”

"You hold him down, and I'll punch him until he confesses." Ron decided.

“I’ll get expelled if I help beat up Malfoy again.” Harry shook his head. “New plan.”

"I hold and you punch?" He said jokingly.

“Ron, that’s the same plan.”

“There is a way we could do it.” Hermione spoke up. “But it’s dangerous at best.”

"Sounds pretty routine. What do you have in mind, Hermione?" Ron asked.

“There’s a potion. We could transform into Slytherins and infiltrate their common room.”

“Brilliant, Hermione! Malfoy would tell us anything!”

"I really don't think Snape will like us using his stuff to make a Instant-Slytherin potion." Ron frowned.

“He won’t like it, but…” Hermione shrugged.

"He'll probably give us detentions again."

“Gross.” Harry grimaced. “I don’t think I can scrub too many more cauldrons without crying.”

“If I time it right, I can get the book out of the Restricted Section as early as tomorrow. All I have to do is get a note from a teacher. Getting the note from Professor Potter should be easy enough.” She shrugged. “After that, we brew the potion and find out for ourselves.”

"You're the best, Hermione. We'll catch Malfoy red handed!"

“Hopefully it’ll be all over and done with, once we stop him.” Hermione crossed her fingers. “And then we can actually have a good year.”

"You hope for boring stuff." Ron clapped a hand to her shoulder.

“Boring stuff is way better than last year.” Hermione pushed Ron’s hand off her shoulder.

"Well... I guess. But it would still be nice to do more than schoolwork."

“There’s always Quidditch.” Harry spoke up, waving to Filch, who had been patrolling the same hallway for days, now. Filch sneered at him, and Harry sped up just slightly.

"Yeah, for you. There aren't any openings on the team, and I'm not good enough to make it anyways." Ron snorted. "S'fun to watch you crush Slytherin, though."

“It’s always fun.” Harry balled his hand into a fist. “Imagine Draco Malfoy, except tiny and in my hand.”

"You're weird." Ron decided.

“You’re weirder.” Harry scrunched up his nose. “Weirder than this face.”

Ron answered in kind, using his fingers to pull his skin out. "You're weirder than this one!"

“Boys…” Hermione sighed, throwing up her hands. “You’re both weird.” 

* * *

“Professor Potter?” Hermione knocked on the half-open door. “Are you free?”

“Sure.” James put the essays he was looking through aside. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a book I need, for research, but I can’t get it.” Hermione kept eye contact, knowing that it was much easier to tell if someone was lying if eye contact wasn’t maintained. She wasn’t lying, though, if you thought about it enough. Merely stretching the truth a little farther than it should be. “It’s in the Restricted Section, and I’ll need a teacher to sign off on it. And I thought you’d be okay with that.”

“Sure.” James scribbled a note down on a scrap of parchment, handing it over to Hermione. “Don’t do anything illegal with it, okay?”

“Of course I won’t, Professor.” She cracked a smile.

Hopefully he was joking, because she definitely was too. 

* * *

"Alright team. Gather round." Oliver stood in front of the Gryffindors, broom held tightly in one hand. They were all crowded together inside the changing room set aside for the team, awaiting the beginning of the match. "I know this is going to be tough- but I also know we can win this. They might have better brooms, but I've got better players on my brooms! ... Your brooms. The- that's not important. The point is, we're going to play and we're going to play hard. Got it?"

“Yeah.” Harry gripped his broom a little tighter. “We’re going to take them down.”

"Especially you, Harry. I want you to get that snitch or die trying." Oliver said seriously. Fred and George made faces at each other, obviously amused by his dedication, but wisely chose not to comment.

“Can do.” Harry nodded. If there was anything he was serious about, it was beating Slytherin.

"Alright. Here goes, guys." Their captain led the way onto the pitch. The sun shone brightly as the Slytherin team watched them approach.

"Players, on your brooms!" Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Ascend!"

Harry mounted his broom and kicked off as soon as he was allowed, circling the pitch in an attempt to find the Snitch. Oliver had said to get it as quickly as possible, and they could still keep their place in the schoolwide standings without scoring at all today. He thought he saw a flash of gold once or twice, chasing after it for a few seconds before realizing he’d been mistaken.

So intent on finding the snitch, Harry didn't notice the bludger until it was too late to dodge. It came hurtling towards him from the opposite direction. Before it could make contact, however, a blur of red shot past him. The resounding crack of a beater's bat was accompanied by a whoop.

Fred grinned at him as the bludger hurtled off. "Gotcha!"

The victory was short lived. The bludger curved back around, again heading straight for Harry. It was George, this time, who intercepted the strike. "Bloody thing is relentless!"

“I don’t think they’re supposed to do this!” Harry yelled, turning sharply to try and avoid the Bludger. It still kept right after him, occasionally trying to smash at his arms or legs. While this was happening, without Fred and George to stop them, the Slytherins were busy distracting Oliver and scoring goal after goal.

"Another devastating score against Gryffindor! At this rate even catching the snitch might not be enough!" Lee Jordan's voice boomed from the stands. "But it looks like a bludger’s gone rogue! Foul play!"

Oliver's voice was dim due to distance and the added noise of both the crowd and the twin's continuous beating back of the bludger. "Time out! I'm calling for a time out!"

The Gryffindor team grouped up in the middle of the pitch, huddling up to discuss the plan from here on out.

"Potter, what the hell is going on up there?" Oliver demanded.

“The Bludger! It’s chasing me!” Harry looked to Fred and George to confirm. “I don’t want you to stop it anymore. I’ll find the Snitch quick and end it.”

"No way!" They shouted in unison.

"It'll smash your head in!" George insisted.

"Or knock you off your broom." Fred agreed.

"No. He's right." Oliver looked seriously at Harry and nodded. "You two, do as he says. Harry... Don't actually die. Everybody up!"

Harry kicked off the ground again, looking about for the Snitch, and barely dodged the Bludger a few times in an effort to chase the Snitch down.

Malfoy hovered several yards above him, smirking in cruel delight. "You look ridiculous, Potter!"

And there it was. The Snitch was hovering right by Malfoy’s ear, and Harry sped forward, reaching out to grab it.

Malfoy jerked back in surprise before understanding colored his features. He swung around, hand grasping desperately for the snitch. It flitted away from both of them, and they took off after it.

First Harry had the lead, then Draco, then Harry again, and just as he was about to close his hand around the Snitch, the Bludger came zooming toward him, smashing straight into his outstretched arm, which bent itself out of shape with a sickening crack. Harry tumbled off his broom, thankful he was only a few feet off the ground, and winced as he fell hard onto the pitch.

“Got the Snitch!” He called out, trying to sit up. “We win!”

"Potter is down! I repeat, Potter is down!" Lee Jordan shouted, then there was a shuffle before his voice returned twice as loud. "Down and holding the bloody snitch- Sorry, Professor! Gryffindor wins!"

The crowd erupted into cheering, and Draco's enraged expression was visible for only a moment before Harry was swarmed by his fellow teammates.

“Somebody help me up?” Harry reached out with his other arm, hoping somebody would help him out. His other arm was incredibly painful, and his initial judgment of it “looking wrong” seemed more and more correct the more he look at it. “Took a pretty bad hit there.”

Oliver grasped his uninjured arm firmly and helped him to his feet. Excitement and concern were warring on his face, and his grin wavered. "That was brilliant, Harry! Brilliant! Madame Pomfrey will have a look at your arm- terribly sorry- but you were brilliant!"

“Of course I was.” Harry grinned proudly. “Caught the Snitch without dying trying!”

Fred pantomimed swooning into his brother's arms behind Oliver's back, and they both broke down into laughter. Their captain ignored them. "That you did! I told you we could beat them!"

As soon as they reached the Hospital Wing, Harry marched right up to Madam Pomfrey and held out his injured arm. “Something happened.”

She tutted over him, shaking her head. "Bit of an understatement. Sit! Sit!" She quickly ushered him onto a bed before bustling off. She returned moments later with a tray.

Harry pulled his injured arm up to his chest, trying to keep it still to avoid further pain. He wasn’t going to start a game without checking the Bludgers himself anymore. Ever.

Madame Pomfrey made him drink from one of the vials after she had straightened out his arm. "That's going to hurt a bit, dear." She warned casually. "Knitting bones together. Never fun! Might have to keep you overnight, looking at that break."

“Overnight?” Harry groaned. “I thought it’d just be five minutes.”

"No complaining, young man!" She tutted again, muttering something about young boys as she bustled off once more. "And don't move that arm!"

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry sighed, settling in to sleep. If he was going to be here all night, he might as well get a good night’s rest out of it. The beds in the hospital wing were much better than the dormitory ones.

 


	8. The One Where Colin Gets Petrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dark times are coming, Harry Potter. You must leave."

Harry started awake in the middle of the night, breathing heavily as he looked around the hospital wing. He’d just had a horrifying dream, and was looking forward to falling back to sleep when a loud crack sounded right in front of him, a monstrous looking creature with eyes the size of tennis balls and knees knobblier than Harry’s own appearing right by his feet.

His half-asleep brain recognized it a few seconds later as a house elf, like Kreacher. And not just any house elf-- the Malfoys’ house elf.

Harry’s eyes widened in fear. He hadn’t the least faith in Lucius Malfoy’s decency, but he had no idea that the man would stoop low enough to put a hit out on a child. Of course, Lucius’ most famous employer, save for himself, didn’t have too many qualms about that. Perhaps it had rubbed off.

The elf stared at him large eyes, his whole frame shaking. "Potter? Harry Potter?" It questioned in a high, reedy voice.

“You’re Lucius Malfoy’s elf.” Harry frowned, pointing at the elf. He was trying his best to look brave, and wasn’t quite managing it. “Why are you here? He hasn’t sent you to finish me off, has he?”

"No! No- Master must never know Dobby was here!" The elf's voice was caught between a squeak and a shriek.

“Quiet, quiet!” Harry hissed, looking around. “What’s wrong, Dobby?”

The elf wailed, covering his face. His shaking had increased, but he dutifully lowered his volume. "Dobby came to warn Harry Potter." He whispered.

“Warn me about what?” Harry’s frown deepened. “You’re free to sit down, by the way. Didn’t mean to keep you standing too long. Especially if you’re not here to kill me.”

Dobby swayed uncertainly before taking a seat. "Harry Potter shouldn't have come to Hogwarts! He needs to leave right away! Before something bad happens." He whispered fervently.

“Well, I’m not enjoying it here, considering someone’s opened a hidden chamber or something, but I’d rather be here than home.” Harry shrugged. “For one, there’s less homework here than what Mum would set me.”

"No! Harry Potter must return home! Hogwarts is no longer safe!" He squeaked. "That is why Dobby locked the platform! He is trying to prove it is unwise to remain!"

“You locked the platform?” Harry blinked in surprise, before leaning in, curious. “How?”

Dobby's panicked look was enough to convey his confusion at the topic change. "Dobby is a house elf! We can all do simple magic."

“House elf magic? Darn.” Harry grumbled. He’d been looking forward to a possible new prank idea. “But, wait, why is it unwise to remain? It’s probably someone messing up the walls to scare people. Professor Binns said it was a legend.”

"No! It wishes to harm Harry Potter!" Dobby wailed again, leaping to his feet. "You are in danger- please listen to Dobby!"

“Who wishes to harm me?” Harry grabbed Dobby’s hand to pull him down into a sitting position. “And quit the yelling, cause they’ll come find you here if you keep going!”

"Dobby is sorry!" He attempted to leap up once more, thrashing his head from side to side. "Dobby is bad! Bad Dobby! Bad!"

“Dobby, hey!” Harry tried to get the elf’s attention. “It’s good! All I want to know is who’s trying to harm me!”

The tiny creature wrenched his arm free, skittering backwards. His breaths came in heavy pants as he answered. "Dark times are coming, Harry Potter. You must leave."

“What dark times?” There was a loud commotion in the hallway, and Harry hurriedly tried to pretend he was sleeping. “Dobby, hide!”

His words were unneeded, as Dobby promptly disappeared with a muffled CRACK. The noise was covered easily by the voices now echoing in from the hall.

"Why is it that whenever something happens, it’s a Gryffindor?" McGonagall's voice was strained with worry.

"This is certainly a trying time, Minerva." Dumbledore, in comparison, sounded serene in his concern. "But I assure you we will stop whatever is causing such troubles.

The door to the hospital wing swung open, light from the corridor spilling in through the double doors. Madame Pomfrey bustled out from her office, looking suitably sleep-ruffled and confused. In came several professors, pulling behind them a small unconscious figure, who had been charmed to float gently through the air. A camera hung from around his neck, and his eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling.

Harry looked over as they put the child onto the bed, recognizing one of the first years that had been hanging around the common room lately. His name started with a C. C-something. Colin. One of the Muggleborns. Maybe whoever had written on the wall was serious.

The professors were still whispering amongst themselves as Colin was gently lowered onto one of the hospital beds. Only Dumbledore was silent, staring at the still form of his student with a heavy air of regret.

"Albus... Is he dead?" McGonagall stared at the headmaster, her voice hushed.

"No. Certainly not." Dumbledore released a heavy sigh. "He's been petrified."

McGonagall stiffened. "Petrified... Then does this mean... The chamber has truly been opened?"

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. If the Chamber was open, and there truly was a monster in it, all the Muggleborns in the school would be dead by the end of the week.

Dumbledore nodded, and suddenly they were speaking too softly for Harry to hear. Madam Pomfrey drew the curtain around Colin's bed shut, leaving him to ponder on the image of his professors huddled over the small boy.

* * *

“Thanks for the help, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry, who was more than eager to find his friends after a whole night in the hospital wing, was about ready to bolt. His arm was no longer broken, so that was more than enough confirmation that he was fine for him.

"You keep that arm in good condition- and the rest of you too! I don't want to see you back in this hospital wing, Mister Potter." She warned him, gently ushering the boy from the room.

“Yes ma’am.” Harry nodded seriously. “I’ll stay out of here for at least another week.”

Madam Pomfrey heaved a sigh loud enough to hear down the hall. "I suppose that's all I can ask for."

As soon as the matron had disappeared, Harry hurriedly made his way to the second floor bathroom that his friends had taken to hiding in. No one had used the old girl’s bathroom for years, according to Hermione, because of Moaning Myrtle. Possible proximity to Moaning Myrtle was a valid reason not to do anything, really, in Harry’s opinion.

“Ron? Hermione?” He called out, ducking into the bathroom before closing the door behind him. “You here?”

"The quidditch star lives!" Came the echoing sound of Ron's voice.

“In here, Harry.” Hermione yelled, from inside the second stall from the far wall.

Harry ran up to the stall, finding Hermione stirring a cauldron while Ron idly scratched at a roll of parchment with a quill. “How’s the potion coming along?”

“Fine, but there are some ingredients we’re missing.” She pursed her lips. “And we can’t order from apothecaries legally, not without passing government checks. So the only place we could get them is…”

“Snape’s office.” Harry supplied. “But how are we getting in?”

"It'd have to be unlocked.” Ron mused aloud. “We could have someone distract him while someone else breaks in?"

“We need a solid diversion.” Harry nodded. “Ron, how mad are Fred and George at you right now?”

"Nothing a couple chocolate frog cards wouldn't fix, I'd bet." Ron grinned.

“I’ll write Uncle Sirius. He’s probably got ideas.” Harry grinned. “He got up to all sorts of stuff here.”

"This is going to be wicked." Ron rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“I’m not even going to say don’t break school rules, because we’re breaking about twelve right now.” Hermione stirred the cauldron again.

“Twelve exactly?” Harry nodded. “Wow, that’s relatively tame, by our standards.”

"We could make it thirteen. Vandalism.” Ron looked to Harry. “Harry, come play tic-tac-toe on the wall with me."

“Wicked!” Harry rubbed his hands together. “How do we write on the wall, though? Should we ask that Heir of Slytherin guy?”

"Let’s not do it in blood. I think it'd give Ginny a heart attack. She looked really freaked out over that one the other day." Ron shrugged.

“Neville as well.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “He’s been carrying around protective charms since the message went up.”

"But he's a pureblood." Ron frowned.

“Yeah, but Neville’s… Neville.” Harry shrugged. “He’s always been scared of everything. He cried at the zoo once because an animal was in a cage.”

"Or that time he got scared of your mom's casserole because it was a 'weird color'." Ron snickered.

“Wouldn’t anyone scream?” Harry shrugged. “If you think about it, it could secretly just be an edible swamp monster hiding in a pan.”

"Better than rock cakes." Ron replied.

“Sometimes.” Harry nodded. “Sometimes.”

“How long have you known Neville?” Hermione frowned.

“Forever, really.” Harry shrugged. “Most of us have known each other since we were babies.”

"Oh yeah. You should have seen Harry when he was a kid- he used to get so excited about stuff he'd stop paying attention and smack right into a wall." Ron laughed.

“How’d you become a Quidditch player then?” Hermione asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Practice.” Harry grumbled. “Lots of it.”

"He sucked!" Ron crowed. "He couldn't even get on a real broom without Mrs. Potter's help half the time. Look at him now, all grown up and being a seeker. You sure you can handle it, Harry?" He was grinning, obviously having fun teasing his friend.

“I don’t know, I seem to remember a certain someone being taught how to fly by his little sister.” Harry raised an eyebrow, looking very much like his mother. “I wonder if that’s still necessary.”

"Like I said, Ginny is gonna make that team one way or another. She's leagues better than me." Ron pointed out. "Meanwhile you got stuck on one of the score hoops and cried until Professor Potter got you down."

“You were too scared to even try, Ronald.” Harry snorted. “At least I got up there.”

“My parents put me in football once, when I was young.” Hermione shrugged. “That didn’t end well.”

"Did you sit on the side of the field and pick flowers?" Ron teased, laughing at the image. Harry was visualizing a slightly smaller Hermione reading on the sidelines rather than playing, but what Hermione said next shattered both of those impressions, and for the best.

“I won.” Hermione shot a glare his way. “I didn’t like it. So Mum and Dad took me out.”

Ron shrunk under her gaze, smiling sheepishly. "Didn't think you were the type. Sorry, 'Mione."

“I was a bit competitive, as a child.” She shrugged, looking back to the potion, and Harry pulled a face.

"You're still pretty competitive, actually." Ron pointed out.

“Am I?” Hermione looked up at Ron.

“You haven’t noticed?” Harry made a noise halfway between a wheeze and a squeak.

"You get this scary look in your eyes when you think someone might outsmart you." Ron nodded sagely.

“Ron?” Harry said, after a moment’s pause. Hermione seemed to have used that time to grow angry, as she looked more than a little disgruntled. “I think you should not?”

“I’m perfectly capable of telling him to shove off myself, Harry.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Girls.” Harry grumbled. Ron shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe, if either of you had half a brain cell between you, you’d actually be able to comfort Ginny rather than leaving her to deal with this alone.” Hermione snorted.

Ron's mildly confused expression quickly morphed into one of annoyance. "Hey! I know how to talk to my sister! I already checked in with her, for your information. She says she's mostly just spooked. Ten sickles says she'll be fine by the time we get back to the common room."

“Ginny’s always been a tough kid.” Harry shrugged. “Better than the rest of us at bouncing back from stuff, at least.”

"Yeah. Besides, She's got the twins and Percy and me if she needs anything." Ron said. "Neville’s one you might wanna check on, though. You know how he gets, Harry."

“Yeah, I’ll find him. Been meaning to check up on good old Nevvie lately anyway.” Harry laughed. “Hermione, did you know his mum calls him Nevvie?”

"And your mum calls you sweetheart." Ron snorted.

“And my father calls me a buffalo.” Harry shrugged. “Your parents both call you sweetheart.”

"And they call the twins trolls- I think I'll stick with sweetheart." Ron rolled his eyes. "What about you, Hermione? What do your parents call you?"

“Darling? Sometimes?” Hermione frowned. “Mostly just Hermione.”

“This whole sweetheart thing seems to be one of those White People Things.” Harry shrugged. “Like washing your hair daily, bland food and brunch.”

“Don’t forget the Smiths.” Hermione grinned. “They all love the Smiths.”

"Whats a smiths?" Ron frowned.

“It’s… complicated.” Hermione sighed. “Maybe that can be your diversion.”

“I bet Snape likes the Smiths.” Harry snorted. “He’ll probably cry.”

"Maybe he can use his tears to wash his hair." Ron muttered, rolling his eyes. 

* * *

Neville was out on the grounds, when Harry finally found him.

The Hufflepuff had cast aside his robes in order to kneel in the dirt, examining a small plant he had found. He glanced up nervously when footsteps approached and visibly calmed when he realized it was only Harry. "Hullo. Did you need something?"

“Nope. Wanted to spend time with my friend.” Harry knelt down beside his friend. “Heard you were having a rough time lately. So I’m here. Cool plant. Looks fuzzy.”

Neville's expression warred between happy and embarrassed. "Nothing you need to trouble yourself with. I'm just... A little nervous. Especially after what happened," his voice dropped to a whisper, "to that boy in your house. Have you heard anything about his condition?"

“Colin? He’s still in the hospital wing. Much the same as when he was brought in, as far as I know.” Harry shrugged. He’d kept an ear out for information about Colin, in the hopes of denying what he’d heard the professors say about the Chamber, but so far, there had been none. “Makes sense to be nervous. I mean, there’s potentially something scary loose around the school.”

The Hufflepuff nodded in agreement, casting his gaze down onto his plant friend once more. "The professors will deal with it, I'm sure." Neville sounded about as sure of the professors’ problem solving abilities as Harry felt.

“Even Dumbledore doesn’t know what’s going on.” Harry whispered. He’d always felt comfortable sharing secrets with Neville. It was easier to approach him with these things. “I was in the Hospital Wing when they brought Colin in, and he looked scared. I couldn’t tell all the way, with the beard and everything, but..”

Neville sat back, wiping dirt from his hands onto his trousers. He looked concerned now, and more than a little scared. "That's not good... Have you talked to your dad about it? I wrote home to my parents, but they haven't had time to reply yet."

“Not yet.” Harry shook his head. “He’ll probably tell me it’s nothing to be worried about and then go get himself halfway killed trying to fight whatever’s down there. Or at least that’s what my grandmum’s portrait keeps telling me.”

"That doesn't seem safe!" Neville squawked, before his ears turned pink at the sound of his own voice. "Or... It’s just... If that boy is still in the hospital wing, it must be bad. I don't want your dad getting hurt."

“Me either.” Harry shrugged. “So I’m not going to talk to him about it.”

Neville nodded slowly, as though mulling over the thought. "I suppose that makes sense."

“Plus, if I talk to him, he’ll tell Mum, and then the kids’ll find out. And that’s a whole other story.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Sarah says hi, by the way. She’ll write back soon!”

“She will?” Neville’s expression brightened slightly at the mention of his friend. “I was beginning to think she’d forgotten to write back, really.” He said nervously.

“Nah, she’s just slower with her letters now that Anne’s taken to hiding her stuff more often.” Harry chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe how much worse it’s gotten.”

“I can guess.” Neville finally laughed, although it sounded a little strained, and Harry slapped his friend’s shoulder. Neville was one of the Potter kids as much as any of the rest of them were, and like with the rest of his siblings, it was Harry’s job to keep him smiling. “They’ve always been at odds.”

“At odds?” Harry gasped theatrically, grabbing onto Neville’s shoulder to keep himself from falling over. “Nevvie, dear, that’s a ridiculous understatement.”

“You know me.” Neville shook his head with a sigh. “Comedic genius, Neville Longbottom.”

“You’ve got the name for it, mate.” Harry giggled. “Longbottom. Wow.”

“It’s not funny!” Neville looked quite sad, and Harry sighed, releasing Neville’s shoulder to throw his arm around him instead.

“You’re right. It’s not. Look, Nev, you’ve got nothing to worry about. The monster’s not going to go after Purebloods. That’s you.” Harry squeezed Neville’s shoulder, smiling as his friend relaxed a little. “Besides, you’ve probably got tons of magic hidden somewhere! And then you’ll just pop up one day with super strong magic. And muscles.” Harry nodded, looking quite serious. “Uncle Sirius says magic and muscles are very strongly related.”

“Don’t know how much either of us has got, then.” Neville muttered, and Harry gasped loudly.

“Neville Longbottom, you _wound_ me.” Harry groaned. “I have _amazing_ muscles.”


	9. The Duelling Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't do that!" Harry called out, even as Remus rushed to get rid of the snake.
> 
> The creature’s head swung around, and soon it was staring right at Harry, as though curious.

Hermione waved her wand over her Swelling Solution, which was to simmer for another two and a half hours before she added the next ingredient, and tried to catch Harry’s attention. That proved to be more work than it was worth, as he was currently trying to get the pufferfish eyes in  the cauldron without touching them, which could have easily been accomplished with a levitation charm, had he actually thought about it for two seconds.

“Harry!” She hissed, and he looked up suddenly at the sound of his name.

“What?”

“Now!” Harry pulled a questionable looking firecracker out of his school bag, which he’d begged off of Fred and George a couple days earlier, and touched the tip of his wand to it before chucking it straight into Theodore Nott’s cauldron. Two seconds later, Theodore, along with the surrounding crowd of Slytherins, were all drenched in Swelling Solution. Thanks to the screaming and carrying on reaching an all time high, no one, save for Harry and Ron, noticed Hermione slipping out of the room.

“Well, that went better than expected.” Harry nudged Ron with his elbow. “Snape’s going to string me up by my thumbs for a whole year, but it’s worth it.” He pointed at Malfoy, who was currently distraught over his thumb having swollen to approximately the size of a small balloon. Malfoy’s undignified squawk nearly brought tears to Harry’s eyes.

“Potter.” Hissed a voice that had become disturbingly familiar over the past two years. Snape glared down his nose at the child, beady eyes furious.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry tried to keep from smiling, hoping that it would give him somewhat of a fighting chance.

“Would you care to explain yourself, or shall I simply send you to the headmaster’s office?”

“If you’d spend some time actually teaching, maybe we wouldn’t have as many explosions.” Harry muttered under his breath, snatching up his bag.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor.” Snape called at his retreating form. Ron shot Harry a sympathetic look from his seat.

As Harry left the room, Hermione rushed back in, conspicuously adjusting her sweater to hide the packets of ingredients she was hiding under it.

“Job well done, Hermione.” Harry said, after he’d turned the corner. “Well, that’s the hard part over.”

* * *

“A duelling club!” Ron was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet at the idea, before he turned to beam at his best friend. “You know what this means, right? We get to fight people. We might even get to fight Malfoy!”

“And Uncle Remus is teaching, which means we’ll definitely get to fight Malfoy!” Harry grinned, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Why is he teaching? He isn’t even a teacher here,” Ron pointed out. “Shouldn’t it be your dad or something?”

“Remember who the other teacher is?” Harry sighed. “Dad decided it would be for the best that he stayed away. Plus, he and Mum fought Dumbledore over the club happening at all. It was great! Kind of weird that they’d try to stop a duelling club from happening by starting a duel though.”

“If there’s anyone who could beat Dumbledore in a duel, it’d be your mum and dad.” Ron nodded seriously.

“I bet they could.” Harry nodded. “Mum’s usually the one doing the fighting anyway. Dad mostly stands there. Uncle Sirius says his job is to look pretty.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be the girl’s job?” Ron looked momentarily confused before shrugging. “Then again, mums are terrifying.”

“Saying that looking pretty and not fighting’s a girl’s job is pretty horrible, Ron.” Hermione spoke up. “Anyone can stand back, if they don’t enjoy seeking out confrontation.”

“I didn’t say not fighting was the girl’s job, I just said they’re the pretty ones, not the men. If I said something like that I think Ginny would kick my arse.” He wrinkled his nose.

“My mum says I’m pretty.” Harry nodded. “That might just be because I look like Dad, though. They’re gross.”

“I’m glad my parents don’t act like that.” Ron wrinkled his nose. “They probably got sick of being all mushy after Percy and the twins got born.”

“Your parents have seven kids, Ron.” Hermione shuddered. “That’s about as mushy as it gets.”

“Nah, they just really wanted a girl. Why d’you think they stopped after Ginny was born?”

“That’s… true perseverance.” Hermione nodded slowly.

* * *

 

They entered the Great Hall, which looked quite different with all the tables pushed against the walls to leave space for the students to line up. Harry spotted Uncle Remus on the far side of the room, and waved until he waved back.

“He looks quite tired.” Hermione frowned.

“Oh, that’s ‘cause--” Harry was about to say that the November full moon was only a week ago, but then realized Hermione had no idea about his uncle. Best to keep that under wraps. “He’s bad at sleeping. Uncle Remus snores really loud, right Ron?”

Ron shot Harry an incredulous look. “How the bloody hell should I know? I haven’t exactly been having sleepovers with him, mate.”

“He falls asleep at the dinner table all the time. Especially when our parents all meet up. I think it was the time your dad was talking about ducks.” Harry frowned. “You know, the small, squishy ones.”

“Ducks aren’t supposed to be small and squishy, Harry.” Hermione sounded quite worried.

“Oh, no, not real ones!” Harry pulled a face. “The fake ones!”

“Rubber ones. Dad says they’re called rubber ducks.” Ron said seriously. “It’s a muggle thing, right, Hermione?”

“You don’t have rubber ducks?” Hermione frowned.

“Nope.” Harry said, looking quite serious. “We have siblings.”

“Ginny still makes squeaking noises when Charlie and Bill squeeze her, though.” Ron laughed.

“Once, I pushed Sarah into the ocean. She’s okay, though. We think.” Harry grinned.

“You sound like horrid older brothers.”

“Oh, I am. I know.” Harry laughed.

“You don’t get an opinion, you’re an only child.” Ron patted Hermione’s shoulder in mock-sympathy. “But Harry does suck.”

“If you kids could line up, that would be nice! Two lines, please!” Remus Lupin called out, and the crowd of students, who’d trickled in during their conversation, slowly started separating into two groups. “My name is Remus Lupin, and I’ll be helping teach the duelling club tonight, along with your Potions Professor, Professor Snape.”

Snape nodded his head towards the students in acknowledgment, but otherwise made no move to say anything.

“We’re going to try and teach you ways to defend yourselves in a fight tonight. I’m sure Professor Snape agrees when I say that you absolutely shouldn’t use any of these spells against other students unless they’re posing a legitimate threat to your life.” Remus looked straight at Harry in particular. “If at all possible, get a professor first before attacking another student.”

Snape’s gaze swept across the crowd, seeming to single out every student it landed on.

“Now, we should try and demonstrate a duel, shouldn’t we? First, we bow to each other.” Remus bowed as he spoke, still keeping eye contact with Snape. Snape copied the motion, though it took him a beat longer than perhaps necessary.

On the count of three, I’m going to disarm, and only disarm, Professor Snape.” Remus raised his wand. “On the count of three. One, two--” Snape raised his wand, but Remus was quicker. “Expelliarmus!” Snape’s wand sailed toward Remus, who caught it easily.

The assembled students broke out into applause and mild cheering. It seemed even some of the Slytherins weren’t too fond of the potion’s professor. Snape straightened from the defensive stance he had taken, and caught his wand as Remus tossed it back.

“Now, why don’t you try pairing up and practicing with your fellow students?” Harry immediately locked eyes with Malfoy, who was standing in the opposite row. Hermione looked across the row to find out who her partner was, and saw Millicent Bulstrode, one of the few Slytherins not in Draco’s inner circle, nearly growling at her. Ron, it seemed, had been partnered with a Hufflepuff boy by the name of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Draco's lips curled into an ugly smirk that he probably practiced in the mirror. "This should be an easy fight."

“Of course it will be.” Harry remarked cheerfully. “You’ll be down in two seconds flat.”

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you. But I'm not- in fact, I'd never want to be someone as pathetic as you." Malfoy said with a tone of forced nonchalance.

“The true mark of a pathetic person is calling everyone else pathetic.” Harry drew his wand, bowing just enough to make it count. “Do your worst, Malfoy.”

“On the count of three,” Snape intoned. “One. Two. Three!”

All at once, there was a loud cacophony of shouts as the students began hurling spells at one another. Draco had cast a tickling charm on Harry, who in turn had forced his opponent’s feet into an uncontrollable jig.

Harry couldn’t stop giggling for long enough to cast another spell, and, unfortunately, Draco beat him to it.

Snape had whispered something to the young Slytherin as he passed by, causing the blonde to frown in momentary confusion. He nodded, and as Harry’s laughter finally passed Draco raised his wand. “Serpensortia!” He exclaimed. There was a brief blast of light as a snake suddenly emerged from the tip of his wand, landing heavily on the floor.

Harry stared at the snake, which was slowly advancing on him, in shock, before looking to Remus. He backed up as far as the crowd would allow, wondering if the snake would hate him too badly if he used a tickling charm on it.

The snake’s attention wavered, and soon it was heading towards Ron’s partner. The Hufflepuff stumbled back, obviously terrified.

"Don't do that!" Harry called out, even as Remus rushed to get rid of the snake.

The creature’s head swung around, and soon it was staring right at Harry, as though curious.

“Don’t eat him.” Harry said to the snake, before looking around, frowning in confusion as his classmates backed away from him. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Remus vanished the snake with a wave of his wand, and the room descended into silence, the Hufflepuffs clustering around the second year who’d nearly been attacked. They all looked quite afraid of Harry, which was quite odd, considering that he was probably the only reason their classmate hadn’t gotten eaten.

“I guess this is the end of the class then!” Remus said, trying to look cheerful. “I hope you all learned something. Go on back to your dormitories.” The assembled students stared at Remus, gaze alternating between him and Harry in mute horror. Eventually they began to trickle from the room, and soon Ron and Hermione had attached themselves to their friend’s arms.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry looked to Ron, then Hermione, in mild panic. “Everybody just… cleared out of there.”

“Did you hear yourself?!” Ron exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned. “I was yelling at the snake, because it wanted to eat Justin. So I said “no, snake, don’t bite him”. And then the snake didn’t. That simple!”

“Harry… You weren’t speaking English.” Hermione looked worried.

“Oh. I do that when I’m stressed sometimes. My dad says it’s a convenient way to fight the man.” Harry nodded, relieved. “I didn’t know that snakes understood Tamil though. I thought that was a people thing.”

“I’ve heard you speak Tamil, mate. That wasn’t it.” Ron frowned. “Harry… I think that was Parseltongue.”

“You mean snake language?” Harry nodded slowly. “Huh. I’ve never done that before.”

“You’re not supposed to be able to do that!” Ron steered Harry towards the exit of the room. “That’s something dark wizards do. Like You Know Who!”

“Dark Wizards?” Harry frowned. “It’s not bad, it’s just me talking to an animal. Besides, I told the snake to stop, didn’t I?”

“Harry… To people who don’t understand, it sounded like you were egging it on.” Hermione said slowly. “It sounded like you wanted it to hurt Justin.”

“And we know you didn’t, but no one else does.” Ron added.

“And-- I bet they all think I’m the Heir of Slytherin now!” Harry wrung his hands. “I’m not! I’ve got to tell Justin, or somebody!”

“Not today.” Hermione squeezed Harry’s arm. “Wait until tomorrow, at least. So things’ll die down.” She didn’t sound very convinced by her own words, and Harry agreed. Another classmate possibly attacking you with a snake was not something you got over in the space of one night.

The trio hurried through the halls and slipped through the portrait, back to the relative safety of the Gryffindor common room. The news seemed to have traveled faster than they did, and Harry could have sworn that he felt the temperature drop a few degrees as he entered the room, as all chatter suddenly stopped at the sight of him.

“So.” Harry whispered to Ron, trying to keep up a brave face as they mounted the stairs back to their dormitory. “Your house is like your family, right?”

“Mate”, Ron said seriously, “Gryffindor House literally is my family.”

Harry, for once, did not feel like laughing.


	10. The Heir of Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But I didn’t do it!” Harry yelled, clenching his fists. All the anger he’d been avoiding, for as long as he was around other people, suddenly crashed down upon him like a wave. He’d been told, as far back as he could remember, to do all his fighting at home and keep his anger to himself while others were watching. And now, despite the fact that he didn’t want to, he knew why. Not even his own housemates had entertained the fact that he could be innocent, other than Ron and Hermione, and they had to. “You know it! I know it!”

“What, Potter? You going to do us in like you did Colin?” One of the older students sneered at Harry, whose bag he had just knocked onto the floor.

It was one of those afternoons where Harry had begged off of Ron and Hermione’s company, and he gritted his teeth as he knelt down to pick his books back up. Their laughter dug into his skin like nails, grabbing hold and tearing away at him, and he bit down hard on his lip to distract himself. They’d only be happier if they saw him upset.

“Get away from him or you’ll really have something to worry about!” A familiar voice yelled, and suddenly those boys were running faster than he could have imagined they would. Within seconds, Paru was picking up the rest of his papers with him. She was alight with energy, as usual, and he wondered why she was spending all of that running after him. “You know, Hari, you could really be better about this.”

“About what?” Harry snorted, and she pushed the side of his head lightly. “I get it, I get it.”

“You’re the worst little brother ever.” She grinned as he finally picked his bag back up, all of his things safely tucked away, and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Didn’t even ask for you, and now I’m stuck cleaning up your messes.”

“You’re not even a year older than me. It doesn’t count.” He scrunched up his nose. One would think that the space between November and July wouldn’t matter too much, but Paru was very fond of making the small things count.

“And I’m only twenty minutes older than Padma, and that still counts.” She shrugged, pulling her arm back as they reach the stairs leading up to Gryffindor Tower. Harry knew, on some level, that she didn’t mean it to hurt him, but there wasn’t much that didn’t bother him, these days. “The quieter you get, the more things they’ll pin on you.”

“For people who can’t tell the difference between India and Pakistan, they’re sure ready to send me to hell for something someone a thousand years old did on the off chance that I might be related to him.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I mean, seriously, Pakistan is all the way up there, and I’m from the pointy bottom end of India. There’s literally no way.”

“Does it really matter to them? We’re all just brown, at the end of the day.” Paru shrugged looking exhausted for a split second, before pointing to the Fat Lady. “Come on, standing here isn’t helping anyone.”

“Coming, Amma.” Harry stuck his tongue out, barely dodging a slap as he ran ahead through the portrait hole. He didn’t miss the dirty looks from his own housemates as he trudged up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, his energy draining out of him without warning.

“He should be in Slytherin”, he heard Seamus mutter, hours later. Harry, busy pretending to be asleep, turned over just enough to scare Seamus while maintaining the illusion that he wasn’t in fact awake. “With the rest of those creepy bastards.”

“It’s not his fault.” Dean said, sounding more serious than usual. “Sometimes those things just happen.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can speak to them, Dean.” Seamus snorted, and Harry heard the characteristic thump of Seamus’ bag on the floor next to his bed. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Dean said, sounding a little unsure. “Right.”

Harry heard footsteps thump up to the side of his bed, and he quickly buried his head under the sheets to avoid discovery, trying vainly to keep his breathing even.

When he woke next, it was already morning.

* * *

“I was surprised that you’d waited this long.” James said, when Harry stuck around after Defense the next day. By the look on his face, it was obvious that Uncle Remus had told him everything about the disaster at the Duelling Club, which had been suddenly discontinued. Harry could, and probably would, keep pretending that he hadn’t the foggiest idea why, but he knew it was because of him. People were too afraid he’d show up again, and who knew what he could do now? “Would have thought you’d talk to one of us.”

“I would’ve. But you’re busy. And Mum’s got four other kids to keep track of too.” Harry sighed, tapping his foot erratically. “Plus, it’s not like it’s a big deal, right?”

“Hari”, James said and Harry stiffened in response. His father only ever called him Hari when he was being serious or Harry was in trouble. Usually both. “This is a big deal. They won’t see any problem with sending you home, if another attack happens now.”

“But I didn’t do it!” Harry yelled, clenching his fists. All the anger he’d been avoiding, for as long as he was around other people, suddenly crashed down upon him like a wave. He’d been told, as far back as he could remember, to do all his fighting at home and keep his anger to himself while others were watching. And now, despite the fact that he didn’t want to, he knew why. Not even his own housemates had entertained the fact that he could be innocent, other than Ron and Hermione, and they had to. “You know it! I know it!”

“But which one of us are they going to trust?” James forced the words out, as if it physically pained him to admit to them. “All we can do is hope that whoever’s behind it stops. Other than that, there isn’t much we can do, kanna.”

And, for some reason, hearing his father call him sweetheart is what finally broke Harry down.

All the anger drained out of him, replaced by a curious emptiness, and the sadness that had been lurking beneath swelled to fill the space without a moment’s respite.

“Appa”, Harry forced out between sobs, trying his best to stand his ground. He balled his hands into fists, nails digging too sharply into his palms as he fought to keep his head down. He shouldn’t be crying. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. But it did, and the more he denied it, the worse it got. “Appa, why does everyone hate me?”

“Hari…” His father sounded tired, sighing as he leans against his desk. His eyes were closed, and Harry’s heart brimmed with terror, because if his father couldn’t even look him in the eye, nothing good was going to come of this conversation. “You’re a million times the person any of these kids will ever be, right now. You keep your faith in that, you’re solid.”

“I’m scared.” Harry said aloud, for the first time, and he was so distracted by that realization that he hardly noticed his father approaching until he was ruffling Harry’s hair, trying his best to smile.

“Hey, kanna, we’ll make it out. You and me. Promise?” Harry nodded hesitantly and James pulled him into a hug. “It sucks to hear the same don’t let it get to you speech, but that’s all we can do. I’m always here.”

“I know, I just… Why don’t they believe I didn’t do it?” Harry buried his face in his father’s sweater. It smelled like Mum, a bit, and it was almost like having both of them there for a second. He felt like he was six again, and crying over something ridiculous, and for a moment, he was sure that his father was going to laugh any second now, calling him silly for imagining this horrible story.

I’ll give you something real to cry about, his father would say, looking fake mad, and put his hands on his hips in a fair imitation of Mum. Harry would laugh, and that would be it. Things would go back to normal. Everyone in the hospital wing will have been just napping.

It was all a prank.

It must have been.

Harry waited and waited and waited for the punchline, but it didn’t come.

His father just stood there, rubbing Harry’s back without a word, and that was almost worse.

“If this is what being grown up is like”, Harry said, sniffling, “then I don’t want to be grown up anymore”.

“Good.” James said, stepping back to wipe Harry’s tears away with a few swipes of his thumb across his son’s cheeks. “Me neither.”

* * *

Harry looked through the doors of the library, trying to spot Justin, but unfortunately, realized that he would have to go in if he wanted to find the Hufflepuff. Hermione had sent him off with the knowledge that Justin was involved in a Potions study group in the afternoons, and that finding him there would be much easier than trying to watch every single hallway for one particular student.

He spotted Ernie Macmillan, who he remembered from Herbology a few weeks back, surrounded by a few other Hufflepuffs, and rushed over. Hopefully Justin was with them.

“Oh look,” one of them sneered, “it’s Prince Potter of the snakes.”

“Come to set one of your slithering friends on us?” Another one snapped.

“I’m here to find Justin, actually.” Harry didn’t recognize any of the faces at the table, save for Ernie’s, and figured Justin hadn’t come today. He’d have to find him some other time. “Could you let him know I’m looking for him?”

“Why, Potter?” Ernie spoke up, eyes narrowing. “Trying to finish the job you started?”

“I didn’t start anything!” Harry frowned. “I was telling the snake to get away from him!”

“Oh, is that what you were doing? Cause it looked an awful lot like you were urging it on.” A girl sniffed. There was a chorus of agreements from around the table.

“Why don’t you sod off? We aren’t telling you nothing about Justin.”

“I wasn’t urging it on!” Harry said, as if this would change anything. “You have to believe me.”

“Do we?” Ernie spoke up again. “Because if there’s no one else who can talk to snakes around here, we have no proof. You could be lying to us all.”

“Maybe it’s a family thing.” One of the Hufflepuffs said. “That story about how his father beat Voldemort never sounded right…”

“Yeah. Did he use some of his creepy magic to finish him off? Or did he go and make a deal with him?”

“You know what?” Harry said angrily. “If he’s anything like you lot, apologizing to him won’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t even count as an apology if you’re lying, Potter.”

“For all we know, you’re just trying to cover your tracks, now.”

“Forget it.” Harry turned his back on them, stomping off toward the door. They’d all see, when he found the actual Heir. And he wasn’t going to give two craps about their apologies then. He burst out the library doors and turned the corner, nearly running straight into Hagrid.

“Yer not lost again, are yeh?” Hagrid ruffled Harry’s hair, seemingly ignorant of the fact that Harry was quite angry.

“Just… heading back to the common room. Forgot something.” Harry nodded resolutely, deciding that was a convincing enough reason. He looked up, noticing something odd in Hagrid’s hand. “What’s that you’re holding?”

“Someone’s bin killin’ off all the school chickens.” Hagrid said, waving the chicken he was holding in Harry’s face. Harry, who was not very familiar with chickens, had simply assumed it was asleep until now. Evidently, he had been very, very wrong. “Was on me way ter talk ter Dumbledore ‘bout it.”

“You should do that. Dunno what we’d do without chickens, right?” Harry fidgeted awkwardly, hoping Hagrid would leave him alone, and caught his chance for escape when Hagrid went in the opposite direction, toward Dumbledore’s office.

He broke into a run again, hoping he would end up at least near Gryffindor tower, and fell flat on his face a few minutes later, having tripped on something odd. The lenses of his glasses, which had slid clean off his face when he fell, had cracked again.

Mum wasn’t going to like that.

He shoved them back on, hard enough to make the bridge of his nose ache, and looked around for the offending object. What he found was definitely not what he was expecting.

There, laying behind him, was the stiff form of Justin Finch-Fletchley. His eyes were wide in shock, hands held up in front of him as though warding off some invisible assailant. Floating nearby, equally as frozen, was the ghost of Nearly Headless Nick. The two were quite a sight, silent and stiff as statues.

“Justin?” Harry asked, softly, as if Justin would wake and declare this all a prank at the slightest indication that Harry was scared. Instead, Justin lay there, like the dolls Anne would leave lying on the floor no matter how many times Appa told her to pick them up, and felt impossibly cold to the touch.

There was a shrieking noise from the end of the hall, where Peeves now hovered. “Scandal! Outrage!” He cried, only a hint of sadistic glee coloring his words. “I’ve caught Potter!”

“I haven’t done anything!” Harry yelled, as students poured in out of nowhere. It was as if the whole school had been waiting for this moment, hoping that he would be caught again. “I didn’t do it! Honest! I was just going back to the common room!” He scanned the hallway for Ron and Hermione, but couldn’t see any familiar faces, save for Malfoy’s.

His expression was caught on a peculiar look somewhere between excitement and anger. His eyes were narrowed dangerously. “What’s this, then, Potter?” He shouted.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief when Professor McGonagall approached him, and was about to thank her for getting him out of this when he noticed a curious look on her face.

“You’ll have to follow me, Mister Potter.” Her tone was clipped. “We’ll be off to see Professor Dumbledore now. Your parents are being informed as we speak.”

“But Professor--” Harry protested, as she steered him away from the crowd, who were all watching him go. If anyone would believe in him, she would. But, as they kept walking, he seemed to lose faith in that with every passing step. “Professor, I swear, I didn’t do it.”

She refused to look him in the eye, instead keeping her gaze firmly fixed ahead of them. “This is out of my hands, Mister Potter.”

 


	11. The Polyjuice Potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cup slipped out of his grasp, clanging loudly against the floor, and Harry stared in shock as his skin seemed to bubble, lightening considerably before he shot upward, feet and hands growing twice as fast as the rest of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the next time he opened them, looking through his glasses was enough to give him a headache.

McGonagall kept her grip on Harry’s arm the entire march through the castle. It was relatively silent, once Harry’s protests had died out. They swept through empty corridors lined with spluttering torches. Only occasionally did a ghost float by, staring at the pair as though they knew exactly what the younger Gryffindor had been accused of.

Eventually, the professor led him to stand in front of a large bronze statue of some sort of bird, which stood in a small alcove in one of the castle’s towers. “Lemon drops.” McGonagall intoned.

The statue slightly to the left before slowly ascending into the ceiling. A spiral staircase was revealed, and they began the laborious journey to the top. McGonagall wasted no time with knocking, and merely pushed through the wooden door at the end. “I’ve brought Mister Potter.” She called.

“Come in, Minerva.” Dumbledore appeared from behind a stack of books that nearly reached the arching ceiling. He sounded tired. “Please, take a seat. Both of you.”

“Professor, I swear I didn’t do it.” Harry, who had realized that trying to convince his Head of House of his innocence was useless, now turned his efforts on the Headmaster.

“Please take a seat, Harry.” He repeated, now indicating a chair that sat before an imposing desk piled high with papers. “I’m sure we can explain the events that have taken place tonight somehow.”

Harry reluctantly took a seat, looking around the room. It was full of weird artifacts, some of which were buzzing and whirring at random intervals, and he wondered if one of them might help him find the Heir of Slytherin. A Snake Detector. That would be awfully nice.

Dumbledore swept around the desk and sat in his own chair, whilst McGonagall remained standing. “You were found with two petrified individuals, Harry. One of which is a student whom many believe you attacked.” He laced his fingers together in front of him and peered at Harry over the tops of his half-moon shaped spectacles.

“I did not attack him.” Harry said resolutely.

“Some might disagree.” Dumbledore’s response was woefully inadequate. “But I’m quite sure you have just as many people who know you did not.”

“Of course I do.” Harry sounded far less confident after hearing it, fidgeting nervously as he glanced toward the door. Hadn’t Professor McGonagall mentioned his parents coming in?  “Ron and Hermione’ll back me up!”

“I would expect nothing less from such loyal friends.” He nodded, though his gaze never wavered. “Now… Harry. Can you tell me what exactly happened?”

“I’d gone to the library to clear things up with Justin, since I’d heard the Hufflepuffs were there. Then a couple of them yelled at me, so I left and tried to go back to the common room. Happened upon Justin and Nearly Headless Nick on my way back. And then Peeves told everyone I’d been there from the start.” Harry nodded. That was all he could remember, at least, and unless he’d been fed false memories, he was quite sure that this was all that had happened.

“You went to find Justin, and you say you spoke to some of his friends at the time?” Dumbledore frowned. “Finding you with his body not so long afterwards… you do realize how this looks?”

“I promise, it wasn’t that way at all!” Harry balled his hands up into fists. “You can ask Ernie! I didn’t do it!”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the door suddenly burst inward. McGonagall turned in surprise, but Dumbledore hardly seemed phased. “James, Lily. Good evening.”

“You started without us?” James’ attempt to lighten the mood wouldn’t have been strong enough to change anything even if it had been accompanied by a petting zoo and a not terrifying clown. “We’ll have to be caught up.”

“Immediately.” Lily’s arms were crossed and her green eyes were narrowed in a way that usually sent Harry and his younger siblings running for the hills. Dumbledore again waved for the new additions to take a seat, but the redhead refused to move. Instead she placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Your son was found at the site of an… incident. Two individuals were found petrified in the corridor, and Harry was the only one present at the time. Considering the incident from the other day, we thought it best to investigate.” Dumbledore summarized.

“He’s twelve, Professor.” James frowned. “How are any of you under the impression that he could have petrified another student, let alone a ghost?”

“We’re only trying to find the truth, James.” Dumbledore smiled, obviously trying to play the polite angle for as long as he could.

“And the truth involved harassing children and accusing them of murder?” Lily’s glare could have killed a lesser man.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore stood firm.

“We don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. I assure you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to prove Harry’s innocence. As it stands, we have to be cautious about such incidents.” McGonagall spoke up.

“Forgive me, Professor.” James cleared his throat, before turning toward his former professor. “But I thought we’d learned what happens when you leave children to fight adult battles in the name of being cautious.”

The transfiguration professor stiffened at his words, but didn’t otherwise react. “There’s no other choice.”

“There are plenty of choices.” Lily snapped. “One of which would be to keep your students from harassing our son.”

“And, about that incident you referred to, wasn’t the other student involved in the duel coached to use that spell? Funny that Malfoy’d go from casting tickling charms to mounting a possibly lethal attack on another student in the space of two minutes, don’t you think?” James glowered at Professor Dumbledore. “It’s clear that my son was framed, Professor. And all of us are well aware of who started this.”

“It’s impossible to discern the truth that easily in many situations, I’m afraid. We have more evidence against your son than we do in his favor. No action will be taken against him, I assure the both of you.” Dumbledore stares at James calmly. “For now, we will only attempt to protect our students from whatever force is behind these attacks.” His words were measured and slow, but there was a sort of regret lurking behind his tone, as though he wasn’t quite telling the truth.

“You know, Professor, I still might be able to find the proof that we aren’t related to Slytherin that my father had to dig up. It’s probably still accurate.” James smiled at Professor Dumbledore, although no one present would call it that. “Add a couple names and we’ll be ready to go.”

“.... That won’t be necessary.” The Headmaster answered.

“I don’t know, Professor.” Harry spoke up. “A lot of people are asking me for it. If you’re protecting all the students, don’t I factor in there somewhere?”

“Of course you do, my boy. If you and your parents think it wise, feel free to use the information as you will.” He nodded. “I only wished to make it clear that such measures won’t be required of you. We will do our utmost to find the perpetrator, no matter who it may be.”

“Well, that’ll be a first.” James rolled his eyes. “Considering the long and illustrious history of punishing innocent children that you’ve got going for you, Dumbledore, I was afraid you’d just expel Harry right here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that you think so little of me, James.” Dumbledore sighed. “I doubt there’s anything I can say in this moment to change your mind. Perhaps we should speak at a later date- when it isn’t so late at night, maybe.”

“I hardly think the time has anything to do with it, Professor.” James said, shaking his head. Harry winced, recognizing the look on his father’s face as the one that always popped up right before someone got in big trouble. “I’ll change my mind when I’ve been given a reason to. Guilt, unfortunately, is not enough of one.”

“Nor do I wish it to be. We’ll see how events unfold, James. Until then, you’re free to go.” Dumbledore waved his hand once more, causing the door to swing open.

“Right.” James nodded. “We’ll walk him back. No need to worry over him, Professor McGonagall.” She gave a stiff nod, but remained silent.

“Come on, Harry.” Lily gently tapped her son’s arm.

Harry followed his parents out of Professor Dumbledore’s office, still a bit stunned. Wasn’t Professor McGonagall supposed to stick up for him? Was all she’d said about houses being like families last year just rubbish? Because she hadn’t said a word in his favor during that whole meeting.

Maybe not saying anything against him was more than he had a right to expect.

“I’m sorry you got dragged out here.” Harry said, lacing his fingers together and then tugging his hands apart.  “It is late.”

“Don’t you start that.” Lily said gently as they trooped down the staircase. “You really think we would have stayed home?”

“Satan misses you terribly.” James snorted. “Almost climbed into the Floo with us, when he realized we were going after you. Should have brought him. Might have made that more fun.”

“Could have set him loose in Dumbledore’s office. Maybe he would have eaten Fawkes.” Lily mused.

“Dream big, babe. Might have gotten McGonagall.” James said cheerily. There were very few people that Satan disliked more than him, and Professor McGonagall was one of them.

“I wouldn’t have that much faith, Appa. This is Satan we’re talking about.” Harry shook his head. “Probably would have sicked up on her shoes, though. Just for kicks.”

“That would be why the cat is my favorite child.” Lily decided, gently looping an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Even I haven’t thrown up on a teacher, Mum.” Harry pouted. “Well, not recently. And that’s only if you count Appa as a teacher.”

“I’ve been informed that I’m only allowed to give you detention after I’ve thought about it for five minutes, because Snape thinks that assigning you them right and left is preferential treatment.” James rolled his eyes. “I could throw you off the Astronomy Tower and he’d argue that I was biased because I didn’t chuck every single Gryffindor.”

“He’d probably enjoy it if you did. Try it with a Slytherin and he’d get offended.” Lily snorted.

“McGonagall wouldn’t cause a fuss if you offed all the Gryffindors, though. She’d probably say it was out of her hands.” Harry immediately went quiet, looking far more serious than the discussion merited.

Lily stopped walking and turned to place her hands on his shoulders. Her gaze mirrored his own, and she spoke in a somber tone. “Say the word and I’ll march back up there and hex her until she can’t speak in anything but backwards Swedish.”

“Transfiguration is hard enough, Mum.” Harry shuddered, trying to keep a smile up. “I don’t need it to get worse.”

“Your father can teach you.” She waved a hand dismissively. “He’s really too good at it anyways. Better to waste his talent on you.”

“I’d be getting too much preferential treatment, then, so let’s not.” Harry shrugged. “Besides, judging by my track record, we’ll be right on top of another body in a couple seconds, so you don’t have to walk back there just yet.”

“I’m beginning to think homeschooling you is a safer option.” Lily sighed, gently ruffling her son’s hair.

“If you need to leave, you can.” James spoke up, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “There are other schools.”

“If I leave now, then everyone’ll think I’m the Heir of Slytherin and a chicken.” Harry frowned. “Can’t not be brave, especially when people are convinced I should have been in Slytherin.”

“What I want to know is who this heir of Slytherin actually is.” Lily’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, Dumbledore won’t be any help. This lot thought it was Hagrid last time.” James shook his head. “Hagrid’s just an easy target, poor guy.”

“Hagrid?” Harry’s eyes widened. “They thought Hagrid was the Heir?”

“They did have other leads.” James said, a little more harshly than he would have, under other circumstances. “One in particular that everyone got quite excited about. Your grandmother.”

“Oh, so we’ve been evil Parselmouths for a century now. Thanks for filling me in.” Harry muttered.

“Like we’re related to Salazar Slytherin, give me a break.” James groaned. “He’s from Pakistan, and we’re from all the way down in the bottom pointy bit of India.”

“See, that’s exactly what I said.” Harry nodded. “And still no one believes me.”

“Like father, like son. Just wait until Sarah joins you boys up here.” Lily rolled her eyes fondly.

“That’s if we don’t get ourselves arrested by the time this year’s out.” James sighed. “Or fired. Or both.”

“If you do, we can flee the country.” She decided.

“Nice to know we’ve got a plan.” James nodded, as they walked up to the Fat Lady’s portrait. Even she seemed judgmental, watching Harry carefully as he sidled up to the frame. “Are you sure you want to stay? No one will think badly of you if you decide it’s too much.”

“We kept your siblings out of your room, for the most part, so it wouldn’t be an issue.” Lily added, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“If you’ve been missing me that much, you only needed to say so. You don’t need to get so desperate about it!” Harry seemed to be convincing himself that he was in something resembling a good mood, as well as his parents. If he went home now, it would be entirely on Ron and Hermione to find the Heir. And who knows what the Heir would do, if Harry left. His cover would be gone. He couldn’t leave his friends to that. He settled for hugging his mother, but only for a few seconds. “Besides, I’ll be home for a bit at the end of term, and that’s not too far off.”

Lily sighed, but nodded. “I figured you’d say something like that. Just… stay safe, Harry. I mean it.” She reached out to tweak his nose.

“I know.” Harry nodded. “I’ll keep out of trouble. Hard to get up to things when everyone’s watching you.”

“Well, my door’s always open if you need a break.” James reached over to ruffle Harry’s hair. “I really do want to break that habit you’ve got of having a good cry every time we’re both in there.”

“That was once.” Harry pouted.

“Out of one time.” James raised an eyebrow. “Seems suspicious, if you ask me.”

“Don’t worry, your father has cried more times than he cares to admit.” Lily nudged her husband with her shoulder. “I’ve been witness to it several times.”

“Almost every single time has been your fault, actually, so it’s a good thing that you were there.” James rolled his eyes.

“I have a weird feeling that you two are about to get gross again, so I’m going to get some sleep and forget any of this ever happened.” Harry pulled a face.

Lily kissed Harry’s cheek before he could pull away. “Alright. Don’t let us keep you.”

Harry nodded, staring at his feet for a second before turning toward the Fat Lady and saying the password before he lost his nerve. Thankfully, the portrait swung open, and he sprinted up the stairs to his bed.

And just as well, too, because, as he collapsed on his bed, he was quite sure that, if he’d stayed a moment longer, he wouldn’t have left.

* * *

“That looks disgusting.” Ron’s nose was wrinkled in distaste as he stared into Hermione’s cauldron, which had a thick, beige colored liquid bubbling inside. The color, the few times Harry had dared to look into the cauldron, had reminded him of the outside of Number Four.

“It might get better, once you add Crabbe’s hair to it.” Hermione remarked, as she ladled the potion into cups Harry’d taken from the dinner table. He’d return them later, if he could find the kitchens. Harry grimaced as Hermione handed him his cup, shuddering as a few of the chunky bits floated to the top.

And, to think, he was going to add Goyle’s hair to this.

“Ah yes. Essence de Crabbe.” Ron remarked dryly. He dropped a piece of hair into the cup, still staring suspiciously at the contents as they shifted color.

“Wait, if I’m going to be Goyle and Ron’s going to be Crabbe, then which Slytherin are you?” Harry looked to Hermione, who’d placed her glass down to fish a small vial, containing a few hairs, out of the pocket of the Slytherin robes they’d “found” in the laundry room.

“There are more Slytherins than just Malfoy and his friends, Harry.” Hermione shook her head, before holding the vial out. “These belong to Millicent Bulstrode. I got them off her robes at Dueling Club.”

“Well, at least we got something useful out of that rubbish club.” Ron mumbled.

“Bulstrode?” Harry pulled a face as he dropped Goyle’s hairs into his potion. Millicent Bulstrode would make a fair Beater, in his opinion, but the Slytherins had had more than enough luck with Bludgers this year. No need to get them more. “Right. Shall we?”

Ron held up his cup. “Cheers?”

Hermione was the first to down her cup full of potion, and immediately ran for the nearest bathroom stall. Harry watched her in confusion, deciding her discomfort was because of the taste, and poured as much of the potion as he could into his mouth before swallowing hard. Compared to his father’s cold remedies, even Polyjuice Potion didn’t taste all that bad.

Hopefully this worked as well as those did.

The cup slipped out of his grasp, clanging loudly against the floor, and Harry stared in shock as his skin seemed to bubble, lightening considerably before he shot upward, feet and hands growing twice as fast as the rest of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the next time he opened them, looking through his glasses was enough to give him a headache.

He took them off, clumsily slipping them into an inner pocket, before noticing that the robes that were previously hanging off him now fit perfectly. Thankfully, Goyle was the type to label his clothing, so he’d easily picked them out of the first year bin by Goyle’s clumsy printing.

“Ron?” He called out, realizing that his best friend had gone off in search of a stall like Hermione had. “You alright?”

A figure stumbled into view shortly, thick fingers clutching at his head. His black hair was buzzed short, and his frame had widened considerably. Somehow, Ron’s skin had become less pale than normal, though his usual assortment of freckles had made a disappearing act. “Blimey… I’m a giant! Bet I could take Bill and Charlie in a fight now.”

“You need to sound more like Crabbe, mate.” Harry frowned. “Uh, try like this.” He cleared his throat, trying to sound more gruff. “My name’s Crabbe and I’m mean to everyone.”

Ron snickered before joining in. “I’m Crabbe and I sleep with a teddy bear.” The look of childish amusement on his face was replaced with confusion once he glanced over his shoulder. “You coming, Hermione?”

“I-- I won’t be coming!” Hermione said, sounding slightly panicked, from inside the stall she’d hidden in. “Go! You’ve got a time limit!”

“We’ll tell you everything we find.” Harry said, before dragging Ron out of the bathroom and toward the dungeons. Harry had no idea where the Slytherin dormitories were, but hopefully they would run into a prefect or another student willing to show them the way. He was relieved to see Percy patrolling the corridor, but that relief faded as soon as Percy spoke.

“Oi! What are the two of you doing?” He frowned, hands propped on his hips in a way that was meant to be intimidating. Unfortunately, Harry and Ron were both well aware that he had copied the position from Molly. It looked much scarier on her than it did on his slight frame.

“What’re you doing down here, Per- Uh, Weasley?” Ron grunted, attempting to level his brother with a glare.

“My job, of course.” He sniffed. “Do you know what time it is? Being down in the dungeons is utterly ridiculous, and-”

“Have you idiots been in the Great Hall this whole time?” Interrupted a new voice. Malfoy strode down the corridor towards the small group, a scowl stuck on his pointed features. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages.”

“We got… lost.” Harry said, in the most Goyle-ish voice he could manage.

“There was a… cat.” Ron added hesitantly. “Goyle wanted to follow it.”

“I don’t actually care.” Malfoy waved a hand dismissively. He barely spared a glance to Percy, who was spluttering slightly. “Are you coming?”

Without waiting for an answer, the second year had turned and set off down the corridor. They walked in silence for several long minutes before Draco stopped in front of a large stretch of black stone. He uttered a bored “pureblood”, and it rippled and slid aside to reveal the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He scooped a small package up off a table as they passed it, turning it over in his hand curiously before tucking it into his pocket.

The Slytherin common room looked nothing like what Harry would have expected. The stone walls were decorated with tapestries and hangings in various shades of green, and it was pleasantly warm. The furniture was in much better shape than the worn out couches in Gryffindor Tower, most of which must have been around when Harry’s parents were in school. In short, nothing about it would indicate that they were, in fact, under the Black Lake.

Draco had flopped across an emerald green armchair whilst Harry and Ron were gawking at the common room. He had also managed to nick a copy of the Daily Prophet off an end table, though none of the Slytherins nearby seemed to care.

“You know,” he began in a bored tone, “the last time the heir opened the chamber, a mudblood was killed. Serves them right, really. Maybe it’ll be Granger this time around.” He snorted suddenly, rolling his eyes before returning to the paper. “Though if Potter’s mum keeps showing up to hold his hand, she might get caught up in it. Serves her right, marrying into a family like that.”

“You _have_ to know who’s behind this.” Harry said, trying his best to ignore the slight. Goyle wouldn’t have done a thing, so he couldn’t. He’d get back at Malfoy later, as Harry.

Draco made a disgusted noise, turning to glare at Harry. “Sometimes I forget you haven’t got a brain in that giant head of yours. I told you yesterday, if I knew who it was I’d be helping him. I’d be bloody good at it too, considering what I found in the library at home over the summer.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, his grin predatory. “A loose floorboard with all sorts of dark artifacts my father has hidden away.”

Harry nodded, unsure of what Goyle would have done in this situation, and stood up as he noticed Ron’s hair slowly but surely returning to its normal red.

Ron had glanced up as well, and seemed horrified. He watched as Harry’s skin began to darken again. “Gotta go!” He yelped, grabbing his friend’s arm and dragging him to his feet. The pair beat a hasty retreat out of the common room, leaving Draco to stare after them in confusion.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled excitedly, as they burst into the second floor bathroom ten minutes later. “We’ve got loads to tell you! You won’t believe it!”

“Leave me alone!” Hermione yelled, from within the stall, and Harry and Ron crept forward toward the door. Harry tentatively reached out to knock, and Moaning Myrtle flew through the door and practically straight into his face.

“She looks hideous!” She shrieked in delight. “Absolutely dreadful!”

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, placing his hand flat against the door. “Why can’t we come in?”

“Remember…” Hermione sniffled. “Remember how I said that the potion wasn’t to be used for animal transformations?” A horrifying thought dawned on Harry, and he hoped desperately that he wasn’t anywhere in the realm of right. “That wasn’t a human hair that I plucked off of Millicent Bulstrode’s robes.”

The door swung open, and Harry, who was looking at the floor, was quite relieved to see blurry outline of Hermione’s torso. “Good thing nothing happened, right?”

“Harry…” Ron glanced at his friend with a grimace. “She has a cat head. Where are your bloody glasses?”

Harry dug his glasses out of the inside pocket of Goyle’s robes, sliding them on before yelping in surprise. Hermione’s head had, just as Ron said, transformed into that of a black cat, which very much resembled his mother’s pet horror. “That-- That is not good at all.”

“Well,” Ron said dryly, “it won’t be the weirdest thing Madame Pomfrey has ever seen.”

* * *

The fire crackled merrily as Lily stepped out of the fireplace and into the living room. The triplets and Harry followed after her, Drew rushing around his mother’s legs and into the house.

“We’re home!” She called out.

“Good, because there’s an explosion upstairs to handle, and it’s not my turn to handle it.” James pointed up the stairs. “Sarah’s room. Have fun.”

“If we get divorced, you can have Sarah.” Lily sighed, moving past her husband and up the stairs.

“Because I haven’t fulfilled my fatherly wisdom requirement today, Harry, just marry someone who threatens to divorce you, because they know they can do better.” James ruffled Harry’s hair, frowning slightly when Harry shrugged rather than telling his father off. “Something wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that he hasn’t been home in forever and a half, and he knows I’m gonna kick his butt at quidditch!” Drew shouted, grabbing his older brother’s arm.

“Or that he hasn’t seen all of us since school started?” Anne crossed her arms, frowning petulantly.

“I honestly don’t see much of a problem with that.” James muttered, shaking his head.

“Here’s a plan, Appa.” Harry spoke up. “You divorce Mum, so you get Sarah. Then Mum takes the triplets, and you can rock, paper, scissors for me.”

“I’ve never been so excited to lose in my life.” James muttered under his breath, looking toward the stairs. No one was yelling just yet, so the explosion was likely a minor one. Good.

Harry groaned. “Never mind, you do suck.”

Matt had appeared from the kitchen, a book in one hand. He didn’t say anything at first, but instead settled himself next to Harry, as though ready to trail after him like a lost puppy. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” Harry slung an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “How’s whatever you’re reading?”

“Not good.” He said decisively, and offered it up to his older brother. It was an encyclopedia of butterflies. “Kinda boring.”

“Matt, why?” Harry tossed the book aside, after checking to make sure his father’s back was still turned. It hit the floor with a loud thump, and Harry, on instinct, reached down to touch the book’s cover and then his eyes. “Just why?”

“I’ve read everything else in the house that I can.” He admitted, a slight whine in his tone.

“He tried reading some of Appa’s books, but the words are too big.” Anne added.

“How about this, you can read my books and then maybe write a couple essays after?” Harry grinned.

“I don’t think your teachers would appreciate plagiarizing off your seven year-old brother, sweetheart.” Lily’s voice sounded from around the corner. His mother appeared a moment later, Sarah tagging along with her.

“Why is she always here when I’m about to make a deal?” Harry groaned. “See, Drew, you’ve got to get this all set up beforehand. So Mum can’t barge in and lecture you on cheating and stuff.”

“Are there more things she should be worried about then, Harry?” Harry didn’t even have to look over at Sarah to know the smug expression on her face.

“It’s Harry. She should be worried about everything.” Anne spoke up from where she was perched on the edge of the couch.

“See, I spend the entirety of term building you all up in my head and missing you and stuff, and then I show up and you all pile on to get me in trouble.” Harry grumbled. “Not fair.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Drew complained, frowning up at Harry. “And neither is Matt! But he never does anything so he doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s why you’re both my favorite.” Harry ruffled Drew’s hair. Anne stuck her tongue out at him from across the room.

“Why don’t you all catch up while your father and I make dinner?” Lily suggested. James, seemingly delighted by the proposition, hurried into the kitchen. Harry couldn’t remember a time when his father hadn’t been excited about making dinner, so this was nothing new.

“Sweet.” Harry let go of Matt for a second to stretch. “Alright, babies, pile on.”

As though he had invoked some sort of ancient curse, four bodies crashed into him all at once. Lily watched with a fond smile before disappearing into the kitchen, and Matt yelped as they all toppled to the floor.

Harry, who’d unfortunately managed to end up on top of his siblings, grinned. “Hey, I won!”

Sarah, who somehow managed to wiggle her way out of the tangled mass of limbs, stuck her tongue out as she wheezed, trying to catch her breath again. “You’re going to kill someone someday.”

“Hug ‘em to death. Nothing like this petrification business.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“What business is that?” Drew asked.

“Mum and Appa won’t tell us anything- they just make worried faces and say ‘later’.” Anne squirmed out from underneath the middle triplet’s shoulder, propping herself up halfway on top of Matt.

“Well, uh, someone’s been almost killing people around the school, and they’ve all got it into their heads that it’s me who’s doing it.” Harry shrugged, not sure how to explain this to his siblings. How do you tell eight year olds that people think you’re a serial almost murderer? “Nobody’s dead, but from what people are saying, it’s only a matter of time. And then it’s off to jail with me.”

“If it were any of us, it’d be Sarah.” Anne said seriously. “And she isn’t even at Hogwarts yet.”

“It would be me.” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not leaving any drama for the rest of us, are you?”

“You know me. Always the center of attention.” Harry pulled a face.

“We love you anyways.” Matt said somberly.

“Is this why Appa’s been so antsy?” Drew asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“What do you mean, antsy?” Harry frowned. “He’s been alright at school, as far as I know.”

“Been talking to all of us.” Sarah looked toward the kitchen to make sure their parents were still busy before scooting closer to Matt. “About what to do if people are mean to us and he and Mum aren’t there. And Padma’s mum came over and talked to me too. Was weird.”

“Had a big talk about family with me.” Anne said.

“It was weird. And kinda scary.” Matt’s tone was as soft as it always was, and he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling. “But it made sense, I guess. ‘Specially if Hogwarts is getting kinda scary, too.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Good to be prepared, really. Aren’t too many people out there who like us right now.”

“I’ll beat them up.” Anne decided, her expression deadly serious. “I’ll hex them so bad they’ll need a haircut by the time they wake up.”

“No fighting people.” Harry frowned. “That only makes them madder, really. I mean, even the Huffepuffs don’t like me.”

“You really messed up.” Drew breathed, his eyes wide in shock.

“Nuh uh. Harry didn’t do it.” Matt frowned.

“Yeah. It’s weird.” Harry nodded. “I guess they do have a point, I mean, I did really look like I was setting a snake on a student. I really wasn’t. I promise.”

“You’re too much of a weenie for that.” Anne agreed. “Are you sure you don’t want me to beat them up?”

“I don’t know how no one else gets that. I couldn’t even give Spike the Third up when he got all half dead last year.” Harry shrugged. “And they think I almost killed six people and a ghost?”

“You did kill Spike, though.” Sarah pointed out. “Left him to die.”

“Not on purpose!”

“He was a cactus, to be fair.” Matt murmured. “They aren’t supposed to die.”

“Was Spike murdered?” Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Drew did it.” Sarah smiled. “Knocked something into his pot a couple weeks before and didn’t tell you.”

“I did not!” Drew protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell him!”

“Which is it, Drew?” Anne tugged on her brother’s ear, snickering.

“Yeah, Drew?” Harry chimed in. “Which is it?”

“And plus, I said I wouldn’t tell him then. You didn’t make me promise I wouldn’t tell him ever.” Sarah hid behind Matt, as if he would be a good shield.

“That’s cheating!” Drew reached out to try and whack Sarah’s shoulder, but ended up slapping Matt clumsily on the ear.

“It’s a loophole, so it’s not cheating at all.” Anne wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck as she laughed.

“Is so!” Drew exclaimed.

“Everyone’s on my side, buddy.” Sarah grinned. “Sorry about your loser self losing.”

“I want new siblings.” Drew grumbled.

“You can’t get any. I asked.” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “A lot of times, actually.”

“I’m cooler than you, I should get a free pass.” Drew decided after a moment.

“How are they going to pick which of us to get rid of, though?” Harry frowned. “Appa sucks at anything involving choices. I mean, last time we let him do anything, he almost died.”

“Mum says that’s a habit of his, though.” Anne said. “We could put it to a vote.”

“I vote for Harry.” Drew said, still angry.

“Not fair!” Harry exclaimed. “I vote for Sarah.”

“What do you have against me? I solved your plant murder mystery.” Sarah pouted. “I vote for Harry. Let’s get rid of him.”

“I vote for Harry too!” Anne declared.

“Can I vote for no one?” Matt asked quietly.

“Nerd.” Harry rolled his eyes. “If I’m on my way out, I’m taking Mattie with me. Consider your choices.”

“No you won’t.” Sarah rolled her eyes “We’re keeping him. You can get out. Not by the Floo, though, Mum’s banned you without adult supervision.”

“Throw him out a window!” Anne laughed.

“We can go to the Weasleys.” Matt suggested to Harry.

“They’re already got a bunch of kids.” Harry thought about it for a second before the perfect solution occurred to him. “Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus would probably hide us.”

“Good point.” Matt nodded. “They have good snacks.” There was a pause and then he frowned. “Will Uncle Remus read Lord of the Rings to us?”

“Not with voices.” Harry shook his head. “If we want voices, we’ll have to bring Appa along. And that gets us back to square one.”

“I don’t think I’d like living without Appa.” Matt decided.

“What about us?” Anne tugged at his ear, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“You too.”

“Good thing everyone’ll be at Hogwarts by the time Matt gets there.” Harry chuckled. “Would have been horrible if he was the oldest, right?”

“Tragic.” Drew agreed.

“I know. Imagine people thinking Mattie’s a mass murderer. Well, at least the Hufflepuffs would like you.” Harry shrugged.

“How come?” Matt rolled slightly to prop his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

“You’re very likable, that’s all.” Harry reached up to ruffle his little brother’s hair, pinching his cheeks for good measure. “Nobody’d believe that you could do something that dangerous anyway, really.”

“You are the second weenie, right after Harry.” Drew giggled.

“You’re third, Giggler.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Sarah and Anne aren’t weenies, but the rest of us are at least a little bit.”

“Mum says it’s the Evans blood in us.” Sarah nodded, looking quite proud of herself. “The rest of you got Appa’s weenie genes.”

“Yeah! Total weenies. But it’s okay. Sarah and I will protect you.” Anne grinned.

“If you hide in my trunk and are really, really quiet the whole way there, I’ll take one of you back with me.” Harry laughed.

“Haven’t you learned any magic to shrink us both down? We work best as a team.” Anne said, Sarah nodding in agreement.

“Not yet, but soon.” Harry nodded. “I’ll let you know. Besides, it’ll be easier to sneak you in next year, ’cause I’ll have Hogsmeade weekends.”

“That’s _if_ Appa lets you go. And considering the fact that you’re up to, what, twenty school rules broken, now, you aren’t getting anywhere.” Sarah pointed out.

“Thirty-three, actually.” Harry, thankfully, had the decency to look somewhat ashamed of the dramatic increase. “There may have been some illegal potion brewing. Don’t tell Mum.”

“What’d you do?” Anne asked. Her eyes were shining with excitement as she grabbed Harry’s arm.

“Ron, Hermione and I might have broken into the Slytherin common room.” Harry tried his best to keep from laughing. God knows he gave his siblings too many ideas already. “Messed with Malfoy a bit. The usual.”

“No way!” Drew gasped. Matt, on the other hand, had turned a peculiar shade of pale.

“You could have gotten in big trouble!” He whispered.

“But we didn’t.” Harry said, fully aware that Hermione was spending her Christmas break in the Hospital Wing rather than with her parents. He wondered what Madam Pomfrey had told her parents, for a second, before deciding that, whatever it was, all that really mattered was that Hermione would be back to herself by the time school opened again.

And that was very good, because Harry absolutely could not get another Acceptable in Potions without getting grounded.

“But you could have.” Matt repeated.

“But we didn’t.” Harry said, not sure why his brother didn’t get it. Matt had always been that way, though.

Matt’s face twisted in frustration, like he had words he needed to say but didn’t quite know how to get them out of his mouth. His hand fisted momentarily in the fabric of his shirt before he simply smacked his face into Harry’s shoulder and fell silent.

“You’re acting like I could have died or something, Mattie.” Harry laughed. “Worst that would have happened is that Malfoy could have figured it out. Probably would have cried about telling his daddy for half an hour while Ron and I escaped. And no one would believe him.”

“Harry, you’re kind of a murder suspect.” Anne pointed out. “You really could have gotten in serious trouble.”

“Speaking of serious trouble, did Appa and Mum tell you anything about why they ended up at school a week ago?” Harry whispered, leaning in like it was a secret. “Appa nearly made Dumbledore cry.”

“No way!” Drew launched forward, jostling Anne so she fell squarely on top of Sarah. “Is that why they made Uncle Remus come over so late at night?”

“Yeah! McGonagall and Dumbledore were gross to me and then Appa marched right in and destroyed them.” Harry sounded awestruck. “And Mum just stood there and let him at them! Who knew?”

“What if they fought people together? Like superheroes?” Drew asked in excitement. “They’d take everyone out!”

“He fought Dumbledore?” Even Matt seemed a bit awestruck.

“Dumbledore!” Harry nodded excitedly. “And Dumbledore did the whole ‘I’m sorry you’re upset’ thing Appa told us to look out for and Appa crushed him! It was great!”

“You’re so lucky you got to see that!” Anne shoved at Harry’s shoulder. “I wanna see Appa smash Dumbledore!”

“I guess that’s why Mum doesn’t let him take the fights as often.” Sarah shrugged. “Makes it more of a surprise when he actually does get mad.”

“So he’s like a secret weapon?” Matt questioned.

“Maybe.” Harry nodded thoughtfully. “But a secret weapon for good? Or for evil?”

“Well it’s Appa and Mum. I don’t think they’re on any side but their own, half the time.” Drew mused.

“That’s not true. Appa punched Voldemort’s nose off!” Anne spoke up.

“Also not true.” Harry shook his head. “I was there.”

“You were a baby.” Matt pointed out. “I don’t think you can remember that.”

“Maybe you just don’t remember anything from when you were a baby because you didn’t do anything memorable.” Harry shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure you probably just sat there and cried.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“He does that now, anyways.” Anne said.

“I do not.” Harry whined.

“Gonna cry about it?” She shot back.

“No!”

“I think he’s gonna cry about it.” She said to Sarah, grinning impishly.

“I give him two minutes before he cracks.” Sarah grinned. “One fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty--”

“Why do you all hate me?” Harry groaned, throwing his head back.

“You abandoned us for Hogwarts and Matt cried about it.” Drew told him in a very serious manner. “It was really sad.”

“It wasn’t.” Sarah shook her head. “And Drew, darling, you’re leaving out the other person who cried.”

“You cried?” Harry looked at Sarah, mildly horrified.

“You are an idiot.” She said, shaking her head.

“We like you anyways.” Matt assured him.

“Most of the time.” Anne agreed.

“For the record, Drew and Mum cried, so I guess that’s actually three people.” Sarah mused. “Except we all knew Mum was going to, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Do you think she’ll cry when you go off? Or will she be used to it by then?” Drew asked Sarah.

“I’m setting my expectations high.” Sarah nodded. “I’m gonna make Mum and Appa cry.”

“In _relief_.” Harry snorted. Anne and Drew snickered, but Matt patted Sarah’s hand comfortingly.

“If you want food, you’ve got thirty seconds to sit yourselves down and pretend you did something today.” James yelled from the kitchen. “Rest of you are going hungry. Forever.”

Drew easily scrambled out of the pile of his siblings, knocking Matt back onto Harry as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Traitor!” Anne shouted, but she chased after him as well.

“Come on, Matt.” Harry helped his brother up, keeping a firm hold on his hand afterward. “Got to get there before the food runs out.”

“Okay!”

Sarah sped off, not wanting to be beat to the dinner table by Harry.

“Well, Matt, here we are. Forever left behind.” Harry sighed, trudging over to the table as he swung their hands back and forth. “I like being at Hogwarts. Nobody’s mean.”

“Well, you’re welcome to spend the rest of Christmas break back there, but I don’t think your brothers and sister will appreciate you missing their birthday.” Lily walked past him, ruffling his hair on her way to the table.

“Not like we don’t anyway.” Harry shrugged. “Who asked them to be born on Christmas?”

“Your mother.” James nodded.

“You say another word that isn’t about your participation in that turn of events and I’ll dump this food on your lap, James Potter.” Lily warned. James instantly sunk a little lower in his seat, muttering something or the other under his breath.

“You can supposedly punch Voldemort’s nose off, but the minute Mum tells you off, you’re a giant weenie.” Sarah shook her head. “How much can we believe?”

“Don’t listen to a word your father says,” Lily advised, “he’s an idiot.”

“I didn’t even--” James grumbled. “Whatever. Eating. Shut up.”

“Only six more lives, Mum.” Harry grinned. “After that, you can dump him hard. Forever.”

“I’ll think about it.”


	12. Dear Demon Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s the worst it can be?” Harry rolled his eyes.
> 
> “A soul sucking demon diary?” Ron remarked sarcastically.
> 
> “Nah.” Harry shook his head. “Even wizards aren’t that weird.”

“You know, Hermione, I’m awfully glad that you’re not petrified.” Harry threw an arm around his friend’s shoulder.

Hermione, now entirely whisker free, smiled brightly.

“And I’m awfully glad none of us are allergic to cats. That would have been even more of a nightmare.” Ron added sagely.

“I feel like I should be thankful for something too, to round it out.” Hermione mused aloud, mussing up Harry’s hair when he stuck his tongue out at her. “But I feel like two’s a solid place to stop.”

“Someone should have told my parents that.” Harry muttered.

“I do not want to hear it.” Ron shoved his friend’s shoulder. “You would have been done at three if your mum hadn’t had triplets! My parents just didn’t stop!”

“My parents say they stopped after me because I was perfect.” Hermione grinned.

“Yeah, but they’re parents. They’ve got to say things like that. Or we cry and they cry and you end up hiding at your Uncle Sirius' for a day because someone blew a hole in the living room ceiling.” Harry shrugged. “It’s all very complicated.”

“Speaking of complicated…” Hermione’s smile faltered slightly as she looked ahead, into the bathroom. “Myrtle’s been at it again.”

“Were you in here over break?” Ron stopped outside the bathroom door, looking at Hermione with a frown. “... What was she even doing?”

The bathroom was fully flooded, the water soaking into their shoes and socks, and Harry pointed to one particular stall that seemed to be the source of the odd rushing noise. “Something’s got one of the toilets blocked, looks like.”

“No one comes here but us.” Hermione frowned. “And we haven’t tossed anything into a toilet lately.”

“So it’s gotta be Myrtle, right? Where is the loon, anyways?” Ron lifted one shoe in mild disgust and proceeded to mutter about wet socks.

Harry ran past his friend to throw the stall door open, and miraculously, for once, the stall was Myrtle free. Rather than being occupied by a ghost, however, the toilet was clogged by a book lodged into a very, very not book appropriate place.

“I don’t wanna touch it.” Harry pulled a face.

“Don’t be such a girl.” Ron pushed Harry slightly to the side in order to fish the book from the toilet. “S’not like anyone uses this bathroom anyways, right?”

“Who puts a book in the toilet?” Harry shuddered. “Just give it to someone else. Or set it on fire. I dunno.”

“The Catholic Church burned books they found objectionable.” Hermione piped up. “There’s some sort of precedent for book burning, but nothing for disposal of book by toilet.”

“Isn’t your dad crazy into books? Or like… I dunno, you do that thing with your eyes. I’m pretty sure burning it would be bad.” Ron waved the sodden book at Harry. “Plus it’s all wet- it wouldn’t catch fire.”

“Good thing. We’ll turn it into Pince or something.” Harry shrugged. “After it’s dried off, of course.”

“Sounds responsible.” Hermione looked quite proud of Harry. Anyone would, considering his record was against him.

“It’s empty.” Ron piped up, peeling the wet pages apart. “I mean, as far as I can tell. Just a stupid, empty journal. Why was it in the toilet?”

“Let me see.” Hermione snatched the book out of Ron’s hands before flipping through the pages. “The diary’s almost fifty years old. Why would someone be shoving an empty, fifty year old diary in an abandoned toilet?”

“Only if they’re trying to hide something.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what you’d hide in an empty diary.”

“I have five older brothers and you _don’t_ want to know.” Ron shook his head rapidly.

“Your brothers had diaries?” Harry snickered. “Even Anne doesn’t have a diary and she’s eight.”

“Mostly Percy.” Ron shrugged.

“What does Percy say in his diary? Talk about Oliver Wood all the time?” Harry snorted. “Grades? That weird, feathery newt he adopted over the summer?”

“I repeat, you don’t want to know.” Ron shuddered.

“True. It’s Percy. I don’t want to know.” Harry nodded. “So, what’s the plan? Dry the book off? Take it to Dumbledore, now that we know it’s a valuable piece of ancient history?”

“I wanna know why it got stuffed down the loo.” Ron crossed his arms. “Actually, where’s Myrtle? Maybe she saw who did it.”

“Myrtle?” Harry called out. “Myrtle, you here?”

There was no answer.

“Suppose Myrtle’s gone to go visit some ghost friends.” Harry shrugged. “What do the ghosts do when we’re all in classes?”

“Maybe they do socialize.” Hermione nodded. “Ghosts tend to stay behind because they have unfinished business, so they’ve all got that in common.”

“We don’t have ghosts, really.” Harry shrugged. “And all the ghost-ish things are evil.”

“We’ve got Jesus, I guess? He’s a dead guy.” Ron mumbled.

“We’re not much better.” Harry pulled a face. “My family’s patron god is a guy who got trapped in a temple forever because he took out a really big loan. To get married. One mistake after another, mate.”

“You said Matt gets lost in temples all the time. Better keep an eye on him or he’ll end up the same way.” Ron nodded slowly.

“Getting lost in temples sounds like a horribly dangerous habit for a little kid to have.” Hermione winced.

“Matt could get lost in a cardboard box, if he tried. Besides, he’s already used two out of his three chances this year. If he gets past three, we’re officially allowed to leave him there.” Harry sighed. “Poor guy, he needs a map. Dad’s got one. Matt should get it.”

“A map?” Ron frowned. “Yeah. Guess that’d help, since he doesn’t really have a sense of direction. I think mum is scared he’ll get lost whenever he’s over at the Burrow.”

“You call your house the Burrow?” Hermione looked over at Ron. “How did that happen?”

“They’re Weasleys. Weasels live in burrows. All the Weasleys are in the Burrow.” Harry shrugged. “Seems pretty cut and dry to me.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that.” Ron admitted after a moment. “S’just… always been the Burrow.”

“I feel like your dad came up with it. He seems like the type.” Harry nodded. “To make bad jokes that no one gets for twelve years, meaning.”

“At least it wasn’t a joke about something muggle. Then we’d have had to wait for Hermione to figure it out.”

“Hey.” Harry protested. “I can figure out Muggle jokes.”

“Old Muggle jokes, maybe.” Hermione snorted.

“I know more Muggle jokes than you, I bet.” Harry grumbled. “Even if they’re all thirty years old or something.”

“My dad loves them.” Ron nodded.

“Your dad’s job is finding out what rubber ducks do.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Far as I know, they just sit in the tub. Sometimes they squeak when you squish them.”

“He does other stuff, sometimes.” Ron rubbed at the back of his neck. “Anyways, shouldn’t we be worried about the weird diary?”

“What’s the worst it can be?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“A soul sucking demon diary?” Ron remarked sarcastically.

“Nah.” Harry shook his head. “Even wizards aren’t _that_ weird.”

* * *

Hermione raced down the stairs even faster than usual, worried by the sight before her. All the Weasley boys (or at least most of them-- you could never quite be sure) were clustered together, mumbling about something or the other. That usually meant an explosion would be happening soon, probably in a public space.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Hermione walked right up to Ron, snatching something out of his hand.

“Hey!” He made a grab for it, but was unsuccessful. Hermione held onto what appeared to be a large piece of red paper- decorated with bits of lace and stars that actually twinkled. There were some poorly done drawings inked in around the edges, and the beginning of what appeared to be a poem. “Give that back! I’m not done yet, Hermione!”

“Is this a valentine, Ron?” Hermione laughed, just barely keeping it out of his reach. “Who’s it for?”

“I’d tease him for being in puppy love,” George propped his chin on his hand, “but it’s for Ginny, so that would be really gross.”

“That’s sweet.” Hermione handed it back immediately. “Making a valentine for your little sister.”

“We all are, actually.” Percy was seated nearby- the only one of the four who was actually in a seat, and not sprawled across the floor. “You’re welcome to join us, if you have a valentine in mind.”

“Nothing at the moment, but if something strikes me, I’ll know where to go.” Hermione nodded. “That’s quite a lot of valentines for one person. Are you sure you haven’t repeated yourselves?”

“She’s been in a real weird mood lately.” George shrugged.

“Ginny always gets a little scary, when she gets moody.” Fred shuddered. “One time, she got Perce’s favorite sweater to shrink until it only fit the cat. Can you imagine?”

“He did look rather charming in it.” George snickered, flicking a miniature star at Percy.

“The point is,” the eldest brother scowled at the twins, “that we’re trying to cheer her up a bit.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Hermione took a seat in one of the nearby empty chairs. The other Gryffindors in the common room had taken the chairs farthest from the Weasley clan, probably fearing, as she had, that some sort of disaster was about to take place. “Harry’s been a bit sad lately. Maybe you should make him something too.”

“Already on it!” George thrust forward a slightly less decadent valentine, and Fred let out a cackle from next to him.

“What’s the joke?” Hermione frowned in confusion before taking it from George. It seemed slightly less frilly and sparkly, and Harry would appreciate that for sure, but it didn’t seem worth the amount of laughter it was getting.

“You have to read it.” Ron grinned up at his friend.

“Out loud! Do it out loud.” Fred insisted.

“Alright, I suppose.” Hermione looked to Ron. “His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he’s truly divine, the hero who we’ve never abhorred. It’s quite nice, actually.”

“We wrote it.” The twins said in unison.

“I suggested abhorred. They couldn’t find anything else that rhymed properly.” Percy murmured, his gaze trained on his own valentine.

“Not many words rhyme with blackboard.” Hermione nodded. “At least not many that would fit the structure well. Well done, Percy.”

He smiled up at her sheepishly. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

“Harry won’t appreciate the effort, but he’ll like the fact that you thought of him.” Hermione read over the poem again, stopping suddenly as she read the end of the valentine for the first time. “Who signed this with Ginny’s name?”

“What?” Ron stood up to look at the valentine whilst the twins dissolved into fits of giggles.

“That’s horrible!” Hermione held it out to Ron. “You wrote the poem. Take the credit.”

“I didn’t write it!” Ron held up his hands in mock surrender. “S’far as I know, that doesn’t exist! Ginny would kill me!”

“I wasn’t talking to you!” She stomped over to the twins. “Take responsibility for your actions!”

“Don’t be such a spoil sport.” George teased.

“Besides, he’s not going to go after Ginny if he doesn’t like it. No one fights Ginny.” Fred shrugged. “And if he likes it, Ginny has one less person being all weird around her. Win win situation.”

“Forgery is so wrong.” Percy frowned. “If that were homework I could have you in detention!”

“Well, it’s a good thing it isn’t homework, then.” George replied breezily.

“Truly optional.” Fred beamed. “A service to the world. Being a good brother.”

“You guys suck.” Ron groaned. “Ginny is gonna murder you.”

“She might.” Fred shrugged. “She also might not. She’s got to appreciate the prank value, at least.”

“She can appreciate that and also appreciate your dead corpses.” Ron muttered.

“Dead corpses is a redundant statement, Ronald.” Percy spoke up.

“You’re a redundant statement!"

“Percy can’t be a redundant statement, Ronald.” Hermione groaned. “Honestly, do you ever listen?”

His face flushed and he scowled at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side.” Hermione scowled right back. “I’m just pointing out a mistake.”

“That makes my argument seem weaker, so now Fred and George are gonna win by default.” He said. Ron seemed incredibly put out with her agreeing with Percy.

“Percy can’t be a redundant statement because he’s a person, Ron.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Agreed.” Percy nodded.

“Forget it.” Ron collapsed onto a nearby armchair, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance.

“It’s a simple mistake that anyone could have made.”

“I think he was just making a joke.” George had gone back to scribbling on a spare piece of parchment.

“Well, it wasn’t a very good joke.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Considering that it was wrong.”

“You picked the wrong Weasley brother to be friends with, Granger.” Fred grinned at Hermione. “You and Percy would be best friends! You can talk about redundant statements and words that rhyme with abhorred all day long.”

“I wouldn’t wish being friends with Percy on anyone.” Ron declared. “Plus Hermione likes me better. Probably.”

Hermione considered Ron carefully for a moment before nodding. “Probably.” 

* * *

Harry scribbled away at his Potions essay, which was due tomorrow, while studiously ignoring the diary in his bag. Hermione had even cast spells to reveal anything hidden, but they’d turned up absolutely nothing.

For all intents and purposes, it was a normal, cheap diary that some teenage boy had bought and never written in. But, try as he might, Harry couldn’t stop wondering how the diary had lasted within Hogwarts for fifty years without getting written in or ripped to pieces, because his books hardly lasted through the year before something happened to them.

Well, maybe this Tom Riddle kid never had someone like Seamus as a Potions partner.

He sighed, trying his best to bring his focus back to the paper, which he knew Snape would fail him on anyway. It was a lost cause, as far as he was concerned, but he had to at least try. The public humiliation earned by not being good enough would be much less than Snape’s lecture if he were to turn in nothing at all. Harry shuddered. Snape would think nothing of calling Harry a useless layabout in front of his classmates, and there was little that Harry needed less than more reasons for people to make fun of him.

Who even asked Professor Snape to dislike him so much? Harry himself had done very little to earn the Professor’s hatred. He stabbed the quill roughly into the paper, ripping a hole into the parchment. Now he’d have to start the essay all over. Harry grumbled under his breath, reaching over to his bag to grab another sheet of parchment, and knocked his inkwell over onto the diary. Oddly, the pages didn’t stain black like they should have-- the ink seemed to roll over them and onto the desk itself.

Harry, abandoning the essay for the time being, pulled the diary to the center of his desk before digging another ink bottle out of his bag. He had to find out what this was about. If he wrote it it, would that work? Or would his words roll off the page the same way the spilled ink had?

“Hello”, he said as he wrote the letters out. Harry had a very bad habit of speaking as he wrote his essays, something that drove Ron up the wall even at the best of times. “Sorry for wrecking your diary.”

“That’s quite alright” appeared on the page second later, shocking Harry horribly. “Worse things have happened to me.”

“Hey, you went to Hogwarts. Of course worse things have happened to you.” Harry chuckled under his breath as he wrote across the next line, handwriting growing a little sloppier as he paid less attention to it. “What house were you in, Tom?”

“Slytherin” came the reply, followed by a question. “And you?”

“I’m Harry”, he scribbled, “and I’m a Gryffindor.”

“No last name, Harry?” Tom wrote back, and Harry frowned. Appa said that this is how weird kidnappers got you. Harry was a common enough name, so if Tom were creepy and old, he wouldn’t be able to find him with just his name and Hogwarts House.

“Nope.” Harry wrote, and then a thought occurred to him. If Tom had been at school with his grandparents, then he likely knew what happened the first time the Chamber was opened. And if Tom knew who the first Heir was, then the second Heir had to be the same person, or at least related to them!

Although that didn’t amount to much, in terms of the Wizarding World, because Harry was quite sure he was related to Draco Malfoy by marriage, and that was not a thought he wanted to entertain too seriously.

He scribbled the words out before he could lose his courage, knowing that any information he got would be more than they had right now. Which, at last count, was nothing. “Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

The answered “Yes” had Harry feeling like his heart had climbed all the way up into his throat.

“Can you tell me?” He wrote, trying to keep his excitement from showing.

His heart sank all the way down to his toes when he saw the word “No” appear in the center of the page, and Harry was quite ready to shut the diary and go to bed when the words “But I can show you” appeared right beneath the previous line.

He was about to write back, asking how exactly Tom thought he would manage that, when the words “Let me take you back to fifty years ago” appeared over a small, black box that Harry hadn’t noticed earlier, perhaps because it hadn’t been there before this second. He frowned as it grew bigger and bigger, nearly to the full width of the page, and yelped in surprise as he was pulled out of the chair and into the diary itself.

Harry nearly fell flat on his face as he landed unsteadily on the floor, recognizing his surroundings as he looked around. It was the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, except much older. So Tom hadn’t been lying about showing him what had happened. He scanned the room, hoping that Tom was here to lead him about, or at least point him in the right direction, and saw a boy standing on the staircase, dressed in Slytherin robes.

“Tom!” Harry called out, running up the stairs. “Tom, it’s Harry!” Tom remained impassive, staring out over the expanse of the hall as if it were his to own. “Tom!”

Harry instantly stepped to the side as he heard a commotion down the hallway, and blinked in surprise as he saw a gaggle of teachers levitating a stretcher, covered with one of the white blankets from the Hospital Wing. A pale hand hung limply off of one of the sides, fingers trailing just above the floor.

This must be the girl who died.

Tom seemed quite unaffected by it, watching the adults take the body away as if it meant little to him, but quickly assumed a much more sorrowful expression as soon as one particular teacher looked at him. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that it was a younger Dumbledore, as everything about him was very nearly the same, save for a few details-- the familiar beard and hair were not quite as long, and auburn rather than white.

“Will the school be closed, Professor?” Tom spoke up, sounding sincerely nervous.

“We have to keep the safety of the students in mind, Tom.” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “You will return to the orphanage for the summer. And, perhaps, we will open again in the fall.”

Tom seemed to be growing more and more agitated as Dumbledore spoke, right hand closing around the handle of his wand, and the minute Dumbledore looked away, he climbed the rest of the flight of stairs and set off down a hallway. Harry, with his much shorter legs, had to struggle to keep up with Tom’s long, loose strides. Tom seemed to be heading for one of the empty classrooms, and Harry grinned. Perhaps Tom would tell him the truth there.

But, when Tom stopped in front of the door, a rather terrifying look on his face, Harry wondered if he was being brought here to die rather than to learn something. With a flick of his wand, the door burst open, revealing someone familiar. A skittering noise sounded from inside the box the figure was holding, wrapped up in a familiar brown coat.

“Hagrid?” Harry whispered, before remembering what his father had said.

This was Hagrid. The same Hagrid that took him to the zoo as a child and bought him ice cream even though Mum said not to. The same Hagrid that would take him to meet the less dangerous inhabitants of the forest, and let him pet Fang whenever he wanted.

How could Hagrid have done anything on the order of killing someone? Sure, he got a little ahead of himself with the creatures he kept, but he would hardly train anything to kill.

“Hagrid, you’ve gone too far.” Tom said, stepping forward. “You have to kill it. He’s murdered a girl now, and don’t you think her parents would like to see what ended their daughter dead?”

“Aragog didn’ do anythin’!” Hagrid yelled, holding the box closer to his chest. “He hasn’ killed anyone!”

“They’ll have your wand for this, Hagrid.” Tom’s eyes grew cold, and Harry stepped back, now more scared of the man showing him the memory than the man it was obviously trying to frame. “Stand aside.” Hagrid, in his shock, dropped the box, and a spidery looking creature zoomed out of it and down the hallway.

Harry felt a curious tug behind his navel, like a Portkey, and tried to run forward as Tom, now rid of the spidery creature, advanced on a defenseless Hagrid.

“Hagrid, no!” Harry screamed as he was deposited roughly in his chair, eyes wide and shaking. This Tom Riddle was trying to get Hagrid in trouble. Hagrid couldn’t have. Hagrid wouldn’t have. Harry sucked in a few breaths, trying to center himself, before shutting the diary and throwing it into his bag. He wasn’t going to touch it again. Instead, he tugged a sheet of parchment out, and took up his quill.

If anyone would know who Tom Riddle was, it would be his mum.

* * *

_Dear Mum,_

_I found a diary belonging to someone named Tom Riddle. The dates are all old, and he seems like someone that was in school with Appa’s parents. The diary showed me a memory, I think. He was in it. And so was Hagrid. And something named Aragog, I think?_

_The important part is, whoever he is, he’s trying to frame Hagrid from the past. I don’t like it. We know Hagrid didn’t open the Chamber. Hagrid cried when we went to the zoo that one time. He couldn’t petrify Muggleborns any more than I could._

_Ron and Hermione are fine. Grades are fine. Eating enough and sleeping enough. Have run out of socks, though. Would like some more._

_Love,_

_Harry_

* * *

Lily could hear the triplets in the other room-- or more accurately, she could hear Anne and Drew and assumed Matt was with them as well. Sarah had gone upstairs hours before, and god only knew where James was at this point. The letter was laying on the table in front of her, and Hedwig was perched on the counter and happily preening.

“Tom Riddle…” The name didn’t ring a bell, and by now she was far too exhausted to be surprised about time traveling, talking diaries in her son’s possession. Hopefully it was harmless. Though, with his track record, she wouldn’t bet on it.

She got to her feet and picked up the roll of parchment as she exited the kitchen. She made her way through several large halls before approaching a portrait. It was tall and colorful, and the two figures that stood inside watched her with kind eyes. “Hello.” She smiled up at them.

“Hello.” The woman replied first, her husband simply raising his hand in greeting. She would have hardly come up to Lily’s shoulder, were she not in the painting, but it was easy to tell where her son had gotten his big personality from. “My grandson’s ruined something, hasn’t he? Just like his father.”

“Not quite, but you can join the betting pool if you’d like.” Lily chuckled.

“What’s happened this time, then?” James’ father came forward, worry evident in his features. He towered over his wife, but Lily knew him to be quite harmless, despite his imposing build. “We’ve heard things about… what’s happening up at the school.”

Lily sighed, shaking her head. “Nothing good. I’m glad James is there with him, at least.” She held up the letter. “But Harry found something. He mentioned something about a student who went to school with the two of you. Does the name Tom Riddle ring a bell?”

Mrs. Potter’s smile instantly melted away. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. Something about framing a family friend for murder. You remember Hagrid, of course?”

“Of course. Hagrid.” Mr. Potter nodded cheerily. He had been a Gryffindor too, in his day, and had been quite fond of Hagrid, who had been a few years behind him at Hogwarts. That fondness had obviously been passed on to his son, and to all of his grandchildren, who simply adored him. “Good boy. A bit misguided. How is he?”

“He’s doing good! Working as the groundskeeper up at Hogwarts, these days.” Lily smiled.

Mrs. Potter remained unnervingly silent, looking very much ready to burst out of the frame and take care of matters herself. It was a familiar expression-- one that Lily had seen far too many times on both of her daughters’ faces. Mr. Potter watched his wife carefully, looking quite nervous about the whole situation.

“You see”, he spoke up hesitantly, “Tom Riddle was a Slytherin in our year. Very strange boy, no doubt. There were signs over the years, of course, many signs, but we all chose to ignore them.”

"What sort of signs?" Her voice dipped in volume, as though she feared the children might overhear.

“You know Tom by a different name now.” Mrs. Potter finally spoke back up, shaking her head slowly. Mr. Potter’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, in a silent display of support. “Lord Voldemort.”

* * *

_Dearest Harry,_

_Get rid of that diary. Dispose of it immediately- give it to Dumbledore if you must, but don't keep it in your possession. Under no circumstances should you ever open it again._

_The important thing at the moment is that we know Hagrid is innocent. Your father and I will take care of things if he's accused again, I promise._

_Love,_

_Mum_

 

_P.S. I'll send a few pairs of socks to Hogwarts with your father._

 


	13. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, very much worried at this point, only noticed where they were going when they were halfway up the stairs to the Hospital Wing. If it were either of their families, they’d have gone to Dumbledore’s office. And if it wasn’t either of their families, it had to be--
> 
> “Hermione!”

“Hermione”, Harry said, looking over his friend’s shoulder at the schedule she was planning. “You can’t _possibly_ be taking _everything_.”

“I’m not taking _everything_ , Harry.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to get myself a well-rounded education, and you two should be too! Have you picked your electives yet?”

“Of course I have.” Harry shrugged. “My dad says Divination’s easy, and maybe Care of Magical Creatures’ll teach me how to keep Satan from eating me whole.”

“Satan is his mom’s cat.” Ron informed Hermione before she could comment. “And even after the class, I doubt you’ll be able to handle him, Harry.”

“Well, even if I can’t fight the cat yet, I’ll at least have a well-rounded education, right, Hermione?” Harry grinned, nudging Hermione’s shoulder.

She grimaced, rubbing her upper arm. “Ron, please tell me you’ve done a better job than Harry has.”

Ron looked startled for a moment, before laughing nervously. “Actually, I just picked the same electives as Harry.”

“We’ll be fine, Hermione, no need to worry too much.” Harry shrugged. “I think you should be worried about yourself, honestly.”

“I’m not taking everything, like you think I am.” Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. “Just most things. I think I’m ready for a heavier workload.”

“And we’ll be right there with you. Only in spirit, though.” Harry nodded. “I’m not going to classes I’m not in.”

“I wouldn’t if you paid me. I can barely get myself to go to classes I am in.” Ron snorted

“At least two doesn’t mean just two, Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Both of you need to pick at least one more.”

“Fine. I’ll take Muggle Studies. I’ll ditch school forever and watch Dudley all day long. It’ll be excellent.” Harry scrunched up his nose. “Two is fine. That’s all they’re asking for, so that’s all I’m giving.”

“You have a weird definition of excellent.” Ron mumbled, glancing over the list of electives once more. “None of this looks very interesting, and I get enough talk about Muggles from my dad- no offense, Hermione.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugged. “Should I take Divination? You’re both in it. And it should be easy. It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing I should be too bothered about.”

“Half of the classes you’re taking are at the same time!” Harry exclaimed, looking over her shoulder as he gaped in surprise. “How are you going to get to them?”

“I’ve talked to Professor McGonagall.” Hermione said, reviewing her schedule one final time and then folding the paper neatly. “I’ll have extra work, but it’s doable.”

“You’re mental.” Ron said decisively. “Completely mental.”

“Well, I know who I’m praying for tonight.” Harry shuddered, folding his schedule up rather badly before shoving it in his bag. “And all the other nights too, really. I don’t think one night’s going to save you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Hermione frowned, stuffing the paper in her bag a little more roughly than she should.

“Oh, no, I mean for your classmates, Hermione.” Harry grinned. “People are signing up for classes thinking that you can’t thrash them in all of them, but now you’re going to do it. Nice.”

Ron was digging through his bag and emitted a sigh after a moment. “I left the form up in the dorm. I’ll be right back.” He hopped up from the floor and turned to head back up the stairs on the far side of the common room.

“Last time we let Ron do something alone, he didn’t come back for hours.” Harry ran after his friend. “Wait up!”

The redhead paused halfway up in order to let Harry catch up. Once he had, the pair continued into the dorm. The door swung open in front of them, revealing what appeared to be the scene of a most heinous crime.

All of the beds had been stripped of their blankets and sheets, and some of the pillows had even been slashed open. Feathers spilled from the seams, adding to the mess on the floor. Someone had ransacked several of the boy’s trunks, and smashed inkwells and torn books lay in heaps. Harry and Ron’s in particular had been tipped onto their side, and Ron let out a shout of dismay at the sight of their clothes lying in some of the spilled ink.

“The only people that can get up here are Gryffindors.” Harry looked around the room, trying to stay as calm as possible. He ran up to his opened trunk, digging through for the diary. He didn’t find it, although he noticed that he did, in fact, have another pair of socks he hadn’t noticed. “Dean or Seamus?”

“Their stuff is dumped out too.” Ron responded, mirroring Harry’s motions with his own trunk.

“Who else can get up here?” Harry tried not to panic. Now that he knew what the diary was, the fact that it was out there, and probably with the Heir terrified him. “We need to find out who’s behind this.”

“The girls?” Ron straightened finally, eyes scanning the floor of the room and taking mental stock. “I don’t think anything is missing… How about you?”

“The diary’s missing.” Harry looked to Ron. “And it had stuff about the first time the Chamber opened in it.”

The other boy stared at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure? Did you look under the beds?” He whispered fervently.

“Checked in the trunk, and that’s where it was last.” He knelt down to check under the bed. “There’s nothing here either. You know what this means, right?”

“I hope I’m wrong.” Came the response.

“The Heir’s a Gryffindor.”

* * *

“Alright everyone. I know things have been hard lately, but out there? None of it matters.” Oliver stood in front of the team, hands clasped behind his back. “Out there it’s just us, the other team, and the game. A game we are going to win! Who’s with me?”

“We all are!” Harry yelled, perhaps a little too loudly. He’d been waiting for this game all week. “Let’s wreck them!”

“Careful there, heir apparent.” George slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You’ll scare the other team off before we even get a chance with ‘em.”

“They’ll fall right off their brooms if you even say anything.” Fred grinned. “They’re dead afraid that you’ll petrify them where they stand. Or they fly. Close enough.”

“I plan on playing fair,” Oliver gave them all a stern look, like a mother scolding rowdy children. “We’ll beat them on our own merit or not at all.”

“Playing fair is the only way to play.” Harry said, nodding resolutely.

“That’s the spirit!” Oliver grinned down at Harry. “That’s the attitude I’m looking for.”

“I hope you aren’t looking for it for this game, Mister Wood,” said a new voice as Professor McGonagall stepped inside the locker room, hands folded in front of her. “It’s been called off.”

“Called off?” Fred asked, looking quite disappointed. “For what?”

Harry refused to make eye contact with Professor McGonagall, stubbornly staring at the floor instead. He hadn’t spoken to her since the incident in Dumbledore’s office, and he certainly wasn’t planning to in the near future.

“The game can’t proceed.” McGonagall responded evenly. “And that’s all there is to it. You may proceed back to the castle, once you’ve changed. Mister Potter, come with me. We need to collect Mister Weasley.”

Harry nodded, following Professor McGonagall to the stands. If she was getting him and Ron, then something had to be wrong. Was it their families? Were they in trouble? They hadn’t done anything worth being expelled for lately. In fact, Hermione had kept them well out of trouble for the past few weeks. And she was fine, the last time he’d seen her.

Ron stood when he saw them coming, and several of their surrounding classmates glanced at the two of them suspiciously. “If you’ll follow me.” A hint of weariness had crept into McGonagall’s voice, and Ron fell into step behind her.

Harry, very much worried at this point, only noticed where they were going when they were halfway up the stairs to the Hospital Wing. If it were either of their families, they’d have gone to Dumbledore’s office. And if it wasn’t either of their families, it had to be--

“Hermione!” Ron’s shout tore Harry from his thoughts, and then his friend was sprinting past him and further into the room. He stopped short beside one of the beds, a look of horror dawning on his features.

Hermione was laid out atop the sheets, one hand reaching upward as though attempting to grasp at something that hung above her. Her body was still, and her eyes glassy. Petrified-- like Colin Creevey and the others.

Madame Pomfrey stood nearby, her expression somber. “She was holding a mirror.” She spoke up. It was unclear as to who she was addressing. “Would any of you know why?”

“That’s odd even for Hermione.” Harry walked over to her bed as slowly as he could, hoping that if he looked sincerely upset enough, she would sit right up and tell him that he needed much more of an education than he had if he’d fallen for that.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, and Hermione did not move. There was a moment of tense silence in which the boys stared at their friend. It was broken when the door suddenly burst inward and two figures rushed in.

“Where is she?” Oliver demanded, his breaths coming in harsh pants. Percy was wheezing behind him, as though the pair had sprinted the entire way up to the hospital wing. “Where’s Penny?!”

“Penny?” Ron looked from Oliver to his brother in confusion.

“Penelope,” Percy responded automatically, “Penelope Clearwater- she’s here, isn’t she?”

Madame Pomfrey recovered from the surprise of their arrival and nodded, her mood turning grave once more. She gestured to another bed a few down from Hermione’s. Another prone figure was laid out, a look of shock frozen on her features. Oliver grabbed Percy’s arm as he hurried to her side, pulling the stumbling Weasley along with him.

“Who’s Penelope?” Harry poked Ron’s shoulder.

“Percy’s girlfriend, I think. I’m not sure. Ginny said something about finding them snogging in a classroom one time. But then there’s also Oliver, so either she’s both their girlfriends, or it’s all three of them. It’s weird either way.” From the way Oliver still had a death grip on Percy’s arm, it seemed to be the latter.

“She dates Percy?” Harry frowned in confusion. “Because she wants to?”

“I don’t get it either.” Ron shrugged.

“If Hermione were awake, she’d be just as confused as we are.” Harry looked down at Hermione, who was still, disappointingly enough, petrified. “Or she’d have the answer. She’s good at that.”

“She’s good at everything.” Ron corrected dismally. “She has to wake up sometime- right?”

“If we find the Heir, we find the way out. And the Mandrakes will be all grown up soon, so then they’ll bring Hermione back, and she’ll tell us exactly who did it.” Harry reached out for one of her stiff hands, patting it awkwardly. “But I bet she’d be super proud if we solved it before she came back.”

“Or sad she missed all the fun. Remember last year, after I got knocked out by the crazy chess game? She got to solve that riddle. Talked about it for hours while you were out…” Ron sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking up at the ceiling.

“I don’t remember ‘cause I was knocked out.” Harry shrugged. “What do you guys do when I’m not around anyway?”

“We’re friends even when you aren’t there, Harry.” Ron rolled his eyes. “We just… talk and stuff. Play chess sometimes.”

“Chess is hard.” Harry grimaced. “I don’t know why you two like it so much.”

“Some of us are smart enough to actually play it.” Ron’s joke fell flat as he glanced down at Hermione again.

“That was mean.” Harry grumbled. “She’d take my side if she wasn’t busy being frozen and all that.”

“We can ask her when she wakes up.” Ron said firmly. “Then you’ll have to deal with her trying to teach you chess.”

“If she’d wake up now, I’d even take Arithmancy with her.” Harry sighed. “Well, no, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Ron nodded absently and glanced up at his brother again. Percy had taken a seat beside Penelope’s bed, and Oliver had his head in his hands. “Should we.. stay here?” Ron turned back to Harry, eyebrows furrowed.

“I dunno.” Harry shrugged. “Do you think anyone’s told Hagrid yet? He’ll be wrecked.”

“We should let him know.” Ron said.

“We should.” Harry nodded, starting off for the door. “Let’s go. She would want us to find answers, and the first stop’s Hagrid.”

Ron paused long enough to awkwardly pat Hermione’s arm. “You’re gonna be fine.” He mumbled before following Harry out.

Harry tried to keep everything but his questions for Hagrid off his mind, because he didn’t know how long he’d have to talk. Hagrid had been expelled last time, and most people still thought he’d done it, judging by how the diary had hardly even tried to convince Harry at all. Just because Hagrid was a little tall and scary sometimes didn’t mean that he could attack kids.

Harry knocked on Hagrid’s door as hard as he could. “Hagrid! Open up!”

The door swung open suddenly, and Hagrid looked quite nervous. He seemed relieved to spot Harry and Ron, and stepped aside to let them in.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Harry asked, staying close to the door.

“Been expectin’ visitors fer awhile now.” Hagrid’s smile looked very forced.

“Well we’re visitors. We have some bad news, though. So not good visitors.” Ron offered.

“Bad news?” Hagrid’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Hermione’s been petrified.” Harry blurted out.

“Hermione? Who would do that?” Hagrid seemed close to tears.

“Not me, that’s for certain.” Harry said grimly. “And not you either.”

“Heir of Slytherin, whoever the bastard is.” Ron spat out. “I’ll petrify him myself when his smarmy arse shows itself!”

“Well, we won’t have to wait too long.” Harry said glumly. “If they’ve got Hermione, then there’ll be no one left by the end of the month. Someone’s going to turn up dead soon enough, and there goes Hogwarts.”

A stiff silence fell over them at this realization. Harry was right. Suddenly things seemed rather hopeless-- even Fang seemed to agree, as he started whining from his spot near the fireplace.

“Don’ talk like that, Harry.” Hagrid ruffled Harry’s hair. “If yeh start thinkin’ like that, then yeh’re gonna let any chance yeh have go.”

“What chances?” Ron sat down on a comically oversized stool. “Hermione is petrified, everyone is scared, and there’s a racist lunatic somewhere in the school.”

“She’s got to have left some clues behind.” Harry mumbled, trying to sort through his thoughts. “And even if she hasn’t, there’s got to be something in the library.”

There was a loud, forceful knock on Hagrid’s door and he rushed the boys toward the back exit. “Get movin’! We can’t have ‘em findin’ you here, ‘specially you, Harry.”

The pair stumbled out the exit, but Ron snatched Harry’s arm. They crouched down, peering in through the crack where the door hadn’t closed fully. “That’s my dad’s boss.” Ron whispered, frowning. “That’s Cornelius Fudge, Harry.”

“They’re doing it, then.” Harry swallowed hard. “They’re taking him away.”

“But he hasn’t done anything!” Ron stared inside, practically vibrating with anger. “We… we need to stop this. We need to find the heir, or… something.”

Inside, a discussion seemed to be taking place. Dumbledore watched Hagrid with sad eyes, and Fudge squared his shoulders. He opened the front door, gesturing as though he wanted Hagrid to step outside.

“We can’t stop it, Ron.” Harry initially pressed his ear up against the door, wanting to get all the information he could, before realizing that he could see through the gaps in the wooden slats that made up the door. He found the widest crack he could, getting a view of part of the inside of the hut. “Hagrid’s right. We’ve just got to make the best of what we’ve been left.”

“Mr. Hagrid, you’ve got to understand.” Cornelius Fudge said, sounding far more imperious than he had any right to be. “We wouldn’t be doing this unless we absolutely had to.”

“Professor”, Hagrid said, sounding quite desperate. “I didn’ do any of this. Not the firs’ time, an’ not now either.”

“I’m sorry, Hagrid.” Dumbledore said. “But there’s nothing more I can do.”

“We’ll be escorting you to Azkaban shortly, Hagrid. And you can come right back once things have settled down.” It was obvious, both from Fudge’s tone of voice and the pinched expression on his face, that any such return was considered extremely unlikely.

Another figure appeared in the doorway, and Lucius Malfoy sneered at Hagrid. “It seems I’ve arrived a bit early, or perhaps you’re not moving swiftly enough.” He cast a heavy gaze onto Fudge.

“Well, we were about to get things moving.” Fudge said, and the three men inside the hut began moving toward the front door.

Lucius turned to Dumbledore, and though his expression remained cold, there was a smugness in his eyes. “While that’s being attended to… I have a petition with me, from the school governors. All twelve of them have signed it, of course. They’re calling for you to step down as headmaster.”

Dumbledore only nodded, not seeming at all surprised. “Of course. You will find, Mister Malfoy, that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

“Ron!” Harry hissed, as the footsteps began again. “We’ve got to get going! They’ll see us from the front!”

Suddenly, Hagrid’s voice boomed out. “If anyone were ter be lookin’ fer clues, they’d do well ter follow the spiders. And Fang needs ter be fed.”

Ron grabbed Harry’s arm and the two stumbled out into the garden. The redhead shoved his friend down, and soon they were crouched behind a strangely large grouping of pumpkins.

“I’m not sure whether to be glad or scared.” Harry turned to Ron. “Everyone knows I’m not the heir now, but there’ll be an attack a week now that Dumbledore’s gone.”

“We need to find the heir now.” Ron agreed. “Clear Hagrid’s name and put a stop to all of this.”

“Here’s what we’ve got.” Harry counted the points off on his fingers as he spoke. “One-- there’s a monster in the school that only I can hear. Two-- Salazar Slytherin might have put it there a thousand years ago. Three-- It’s at least Hagrid’s age, which is old. Four-- It can petrify people, and has been doing so all year. Five-- All the spiders are going from the castle to the forest, and we know the monster’s in the castle. So they’re running away from it.” Harry frowned in frustration. “Ron, you’ll have to help, I’ve run out of fingers.”

“The heir can probably also communicate with the monster, somehow, and is targeting muggleborns. Uh… Hermione was going to look in the library for more information, so I guess we’re lost there.” He frowned. “The heir is a Gryffindor? Because they got into the dorm.”

“The diary is trying to frame Hagrid, and the heir probably has it.” Harry pointed out. “Either that, or they’re talking to this Tom Riddle jerk. Malfoy’s not in on it. Draco, meaning. Lucius Malfoy’s always been weird. Dad says he was in with the bad ones, back during the war.”

“Course he was. Don’t trust any of them Slytherins. ” Ron snorted, shaking his head. “Alright… Hagrid said to follow the spiders, cause I guess there’s a clue in the forest. I am not following any bloody spiders.”

“Into the forest?” Harry laughed, feeling quite self-conscious right afterward. His friend was in the hospital wing, petrified and probably scared out of her mind, and here he was, laughing not even a day afterward. He tried to look as serious as possible, hoping that in itself would be an adequate apology. “After last time, I’m never going in there again.”

“Well then… what do we do now?” Ron asked, mirroring Harry’s expression. “Where should we start?”

“Where we always do.” Harry nodded. “Hermione.”


	14. Discoveries in the Hospital Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry read the page, eyes slowly widening in horror, and held it out to Ron. “Can live for thousands of years…. Spiders flee before it… Ron, Hermione’s figured it out! That’s why she was coming back from the library!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the school year ending and other previous commitments, we will not be publishing a chapter next Friday (5/22)! I know, we're just as sad as you are, but we're both super busy next week! We'll be back on the 29th with a blockbuster of a chapter, so no worries!
> 
> Rewrite's been going for a year, officially, on the 24th, so this would be a good week to leave comments! :)
> 
> (I can be found at desiprongspotter on tumblr, and Lai is at yamibakuraofficial, because she is an incorrigible Yugioh nerd. I'm also tracking the tag rewrite potter, if you wanna come talk to us!)

Harry tossed a rock into the depths of the lake, watching it disappear under the water, and wondered if the squid which supposedly lived there could play catch. Uncle Remus had shown him how to skip stones two summers ago, when he was ten, but that required patience, and Harry hadn’t had much of that in a few weeks. Spring had finally sprung, taking Hogwarts by surprise after an especially dreary winter, but Harry couldn’t manage to shake the heaviness that winter always brought with it.

He’d left Ron, Seamus and Dean snoring in the dormitory about an hour before, dressing and sneaking out while it was still dark, to find some time for himself. People would whisper no matter what he did, so at this point, he’d decided that he was better off giving them reasons than continuing to try and prove his innocence. Let them believe that he was going off to talk to the monster within the chamber, or plotting to take out his dormmates next. He was honestly fed up with the whole situation, and would much rather be taking exams eternally than see another dirty look sent his way.

He’d almost written home several times, asking Mum to come get him, but he’d ripped the letter in half every time he’d gotten even halfway through writing it. But the thing that had made him the most upset was what his father had said the afternoon before, when Harry had come trooping into his office for what had now become a twice weekly meeting over biscuits and badly disguised resentment toward the rest of the school.

“None of this will change”, James had said, “because once they’ve decided you can be dangerous, for any reason, they’re never going to change their minds back.”

That had broken the fragile sort of calm Harry had been working so hard to build since Hermione had been petrified, because it had been rooted in the fact that things would be better next year. Maybe things would go back to normal, or at least as close to normal as his first year had been.

Maybe everyone would forget-- he didn’t even remember what he’d had for dinner two days ago, so this year shouldn’t last long in others’ memories, right?

As Hermione would tell him, if she weren’t laid up in the Hospital Wing due to Harry’s own negligence, he wasn’t right about these things very often.

He picked up another of the dozens of rocks scattered across the sandy shore of the lake, rubbing his thumb over its smooth surface, and chucked it at the lake’s surface as hard as he can. It sunk into the lake with a very dissatisfying plopping noise, and Harry sat down heavily, quite thoroughly frustrated with himself.

Dumbledore had said to be loyal, had said that the castle and his inhabitants would help whoever asked for help, but Harry had been asking for help for weeks, in an effort to prove his innocence, and that help had never quite made it to him. Was the help a lie then? Or, more likely, was the help Hogwarts gave only for students Dumbledore thought was worthy? Harry was well aware that that was not the case, with regard to himself, and even thinking of the tone Dumbledore always took when speaking to or about his family made him cringe.

Harry knew his only remaining friend among the staff (save for his father, who was required to like him) was Hagrid, and even Hagrid was gone now, with little more than a request for him to follow spiders to find out the truth. How was following spiders going to help save the school? And did the school even want to be saved by him? They’d much rather have another hero, one they could look back on and feel proud of.

Maybe a boy like Ron, Harry thought with a sneer, who was one of them in all the ways that counted.

In short, someone not like Harry at all.

He threw one last rock into the lake before shouldering his school bag and marching off to the Great Hall for breakfast, and, within a few minutes, was too far away to notice four rocks flying back out of the lake and onto the sandy shore.

* * *

“So I figure, since we have Herbology, and then lunch, we can use that time figuring out our next move. Or we could visit Hermione, but I’m not sure that’d do much good.” Ron trooped across the grounds and towards the greenhouse beside Harry. His voice was running background noise, but that seemed to suit the two of them just fine. “Though I guess if she can hear us she must appreciate the company.”

“Who knows, she might wake up and get mad at us.” Harry offered a tired smile as they trudged into the greenhouse, setting their bags down by two of the stools closest to the door. He cleared his throat, before speaking in his best imitation of Hermione’s voice. “Ronald, I can’t believe you said that!”

“Mate, it’s scary how good you are at that.” Ron said seriously.

“I’ve had a bit of practice.” Harry shrugged. Uncle Sirius had always been very good at imitating voices, and Harry had simply watched him carefully enough to pick up his tricks. A fair bit of practice later, here he was, making fun of his unconscious friend.

“Harry.” A familiar nervous Hufflepuff stood a few feet away, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. Ernie Macmillan glanced from side to side before stepping forward, his fingers twisting nervously at the hem of his robe. “Can I… talk to you?”

Harry frowned for a second before nodding sharply. “Yeah.”

Ernie let out a puff of breath before squaring his shoulders. “I wanted to say sorry. We all did.” He gestured to a group of Hufflepuffs clustered nearby-- the ones from the library a few weeks ago. “Cause we thought you had to be doing it, but we know you wouldn’t hurt Hermione! So… Yeah.”

Harry looked to Ron, very much unsure of what he should be doing, before nodding. This particular group of Hufflepuffs had been openly hostile for weeks, and the ones who hadn’t actively joined in had eagerly supported the rest of the school in their persecution of him. The fact that it had taken one of his own friends falling prey to the monster for them to believe he hadn’t done it said a lot.

“Sure, yeah.” He said, trying to smile as sincerely as possible, given the circumstances. He eventually settled for a bad attempt, though he doubted they could tell the difference. “All forgotten. As if it never happened, right?”

“But it did happen! A--and we’re really sorry!” Ernie insisted, growing quite agitated at the fact that Harry hadn’t clearly accepted his apology.

“I know. I just would really not like to talk about it, if you’d mind.” Harry fidgeted nervously, obviously searching for an escape. What Ernie was asking was forgiveness, without any conditions, for the school wide manhunt he and his Hufflepuff friends had participated in, just because they were mistaken. And, as far as Harry was concerned, admitting to being mistaken was no reason to be forgiven. “Look, I’m glad that you’re sorry, but just being sorry doesn’t really fix much, you know?”

Ernie looked rather taken aback for a moment, before nodding uncertainly. “Right, uh… if there is any way to fix it just… let us know? Or you can ask any of the Hufflepuffs where the common room is and pay us a visit, okay? We’re uh… sorry. Yeah.” He winced.

“Yeah, I know.” Harry nodded. “Thanks. For apologizing and all.”

Ernie nodded again before scuttling back towards his housemates, who were now regarding Harry with wide eyes. Ron leaned closer to his friend and lowered his volume. “Do you want me to punch him?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I’d rather not be in trouble again this week, if you don’t mind.”

“I can punch him way later. For something stupid. Like making me drop my homework.” Ron mused, but backed off and sat down at the table.

“Maybe.” Harry shrugged. “But make sure it looks like an accident. Trip him first or something, then accidentally hit him in his face on the way up.” He lacked enthusiasm more than usual, as he had since Hermione had been petrified. “What plant’s going to kill us today?”

“All of them?” Ron stared uncertainly at the vines climbing the walls. Harry noticed a trail of spiders climbing up one of the walls and out the window, frowning slightly. “See, this is where Hermione’d be able to talk about the lesson.”

“I’ve half a mind to just sit with Neville for a few hours daily, at this point. That’s our only option, if we want to get through exams.” Exams had seemed so far away at the beginning of the semester, but now Harry wished they were already over. Staying at Hogwarts was seeming less and less fun, as time wore on.

“That’s a pretty good idea. I haven’t been taking notes at all, geez…” Ron sighed, leaning against the table. “Can I borrow yours?”

“I wouldn’t trust mine.” Harry grimaced, looking down at the scribbled mess on his piece of parchment. “Hope Hermione’s back soon. The Mandrakes should be through soon, right? And then she can save both of us, like always?”

“She’s missing notes too, Harry. God, she’s going to be furious if she misses exams.” Ron grimaced down at his empty parchment.

“They’ll let her retake them, it won’t be a problem.” Harry shrugged. “But she’d be so mad over missing them the first time around. Can you imagine the speech she’d give?”

Before Ron could launch into his own impersonation of their friend, Professor Sprout entered the room. “Alright everyone, let’s get started!” 

* * *

Harry was in a truly dismal mood by the time he’d reached Potions, which was never a good sign, considering Snape could turn even the best days into utter rubbish. Something about how earnest Ernie’s apology had been made him feel bad about not accepting it immediately, or as gratefully as he should have. Ernie had been serious about being sorry-- why had Harry not felt like it was enough?

Harry slunk into Potions, barely paying attention to Ron’s attempts at conversation, and steeled himself for the lecture of his life.

Snape stood at the front of the class, beady eyes pausing on each student in turn. There was something smug about the way he held himself today, though his expression was bored. “Settle down, students.” He said brusquely. “There’s no need to be so rowdy. Things should be settling down around here, now. You should as well.”

There was a general buzzing around the class as they fell silent, and one girl called out. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“I only meant that now that the perpetrator has been sent to Azkaban, all of this chamber nonsense can come to an end. Good riddance to him.” He flipped a book open and cleared his throat. “Turn to page three hundred and ten.”

“Would come to an end if the actual perpetrator had been sent to Azkaban.” Harry muttered, turning to page three hundred and ten. Without Hermione to help him stay on track, his notes had been horrible and, with exams coming up in a few weeks, he had to figure out some way to pass Potions.

“Did you have something to contribute to the class, Potter?” Snape’s cold tone was sharp in Harry’s ears.

“No, sir.” Harry couldn’t even come up with an effective retort, the importance of which was not lost on him or Ron, who stared at his friend in mild dismay.

“Then I suggest you keep quiet and pay attention, lest you fail your exams. You don’t have anyone whose notes you can pilfer now.” Snape turned to the board and launched into the lesson without further ado.

“Yes, sir.” Harry shot a withering look at Snape’s back once he was sure the teacher wasn’t looking in his direction.

Ron cast a confused glance at Harry, eyebrows furrowed over troubled blue eyes. He mouthed a quick ‘you okay?’.

Harry nodded to reassure Ron before glaring at the book as if it had personally offended him. There was no way around it. He was getting another Acceptable in Potions, and the only way to stop that would be to get Snape fired.

Hell if that was happening. 

* * *

“Alright, so here’s the plan. We go in, you search the bag because she’ll get less mad at you for doing it, and we go from there.” Harry nodded resolutely. “She’ll have taken notes on something, I mean, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get some class notes too.”

“Why will she be less mad at me? She’s always angry at me!” Ron protested. “She likes you much better, so you should do it.”

“Are you kidding?” Harry blinked in surprise. “No, she’s better friends with you. She’s always slapping my wrist over everything I do. Like Mum, except not white and shorter.”

“Women are scary.” Ron decided after a moment. “But she’s going to be mad at the both of us no matter which way we do this. Then we’ll both be sorry.”

“True.” Harry nodded. “You still lost at rock paper scissors, though, so you’ve got the bag.”

Ron groaned as they trooped into the hospital wing, but made no further protest. It was mostly empty, save for the other petrified students who were hidden behind closed curtains. Madame Pomfrey was bustling about near the back of the room, but barely glanced up at the pair. They had become a regular addition to her life since their friend had been attacked.

“If I end up dead, it’s all your fault.” The redhead mumbled, patting Hermione’s shoulder as he bent down to rifle through her abandoned bag. “Sorry, Hermione…”

Harry stayed on lookout, in case Madam Pomfrey came in and demanded to know why they were technically committing a crime. He didn’t know about Ron, but Harry certainly didn’t want a notebook to be what sent him to Azkaban.

Ron leaned back, holding several notebooks and folders in his hands. He seemed entirely perplexed by the metal spiral holding one together, and the lined paper inside.

“Bloody muggles…” He mumbled, flipping through it. “She’s awfully organized, but these are all class notes.”

“Dad and Mum were saying to get a few of those, since I keep losing my papers everywhere. Not my fault, I mean, maybe they just grow legs and walk away while I’m asleep.” Harry shrugged. “Guess we’re out of luck then. If even Hermione couldn’t find anything worth writing down, then we’ll be lost for ages.”

“Maybe she put it somewhere else…?” Ron sighed, stuffing her things back into her bag. They looked considerably less neat than they had before, but he didn’t bother trying to fix it.

“Where would she have put it?” Harry sighed. “I mean, judging by what they said, she was in the library, and then she left and the monster got her a few minutes later. She wouldn’t have had the time.”

“I’m not searching through her pockets. That’s just rude.” Ron declared without hesitation. “But… maybe the monster is smart enough that it took her notes? Or… maybe she didn’t even take notes. She might have just memorized it to keep the information from falling into the wrong hands.”

“A monster that steals notes.” Harry repeated in utter disbelief. “Honestly, if it can, I’d love to actually be the Heir of Slytherin. We could just eat snacks and actually learn things. No Muggleborn attacks necessary.”

“It sure would make things easier.” Ron sighed, looking up at their friend again. “Who d’you suppose it even is?”

“Well, it has to be a Gryffindor, because they broke into our room. And it’s none of the boys in our dorm, I don’t think. Seamus would’ve gotten the monster to eat him by now, and Dean’s a Muggleborn. Do you know who’s in Hermione’s dorm?” Harry stopped, scratching his head. “Are there even other girls in our year?”

Ron seemed to mull over this for a moment before shrugging. “The only ones I really know are Lavender Brown and Parvati, I guess. I could ask Ginny, but she’s a first year.”

“Parvati, right.” Harry looked quite embarrassed. If Parvati ever heard about this, she’d tell her mother, and Harry was not willing to take his chances against Mrs. Patil again. “Lavender’s the one she’s always hanging out with, right? The giggly one? It wouldn’t be Ginny, I mean, she’s scary and she could totally pull it off if she wanted to, but she’s also eleven and not a blood purist.”

“You kidding? Ginny’ll probably kick this heir’s ass herself once we get our hands on ‘em.” Ron said, smiling proudly at the mention of his younger sister. Ron and Ginny had always been close, as kids, if you were in the habit of calling fighting each other’s enemies behind each other’s backs “close”. “And, to be fair, we’re only twelve.”

“You’re thirteen, Ronniekins.” Harry laughed, the first time he had in awhile. Ron’s birthday had only been a week before, and he’d made quite the deal out of it. Harry couldn’t believe he’d forgotten so soon. “You’re an old man. Set an example for us babies.”

“I’m not ready to be a role model!” Ron whined, climbing to his feet once more. “You need to look up to someone else- like, uh… some… older Gryffindor guy.”

“Oliver, maybe?” Harry shrugged. “He’s alright. Likes Quidditch and winning.”

“Yeah, but he’s dating Percy,” Ron wrinkled his nose. “So he is definitely not an option.”

“That’s enough to offset liking Quidditch, really.” Harry shuddered. “We haven’t got much else. Uncle Remus is alright. We can look up to him from over here.”

“What about Charlie?” Ron’s face lit up. “He’s got dragons!”

“Definitely Charlie!” Harry nodded animatedly. “He’s the best!”

Ron seemed pleased with their consensus, though his smile dimmed a moment later. “We should probably get out of here before Madame Pomfrey yells at us again.”

“We should, yeah.” Harry turned around, heading for the door. “You coming, Ron?”

There was a moment of silence, but no footsteps followed after him. Then, Ron made a noise of surprise. “Hey, Hermione is holding something!” He called out.

“Holding something where?” Harry turned around, running back to his friend’s bedside.

Ron was attempting to pry Hermione’s fingers apart, with little success. “In her hand, where else would you hold something?” He grunted.

“How did you find something in her hand, though?” Harry immediately began doing his best to help.

Ron’s ears began to turn as red as his hair, and he spluttered momentarily. “I was just- there isn’t- just help me get it out! I don’t want to rip it!”

“Alright, alright, I’m doing it.” Harry managed to get a few of her fingers away from her palm, wiggling the folded up paper until it slid out. “There.”

“Well what is it?” Ron asked, coughing into his fist.

“It’s a page of a book.” Harry frowned as he noticed the frayed edge. “She’s torn it out of something, so it’s got to be important.” He read the page, eyes slowly widening in horror, and held it out to Ron. “Can live for thousands of years…. Spiders flee before it… Ron, Hermione’s figured it out! That’s why she was coming back from the library!”

Ron reached out for the paper, scanning over the wrinkled words quickly. “No way…” He breathed. “The monster is… a giant snake? I mean… That seems pretty obvious, now that I think about it, Heir of Slytherin and all…”

“And it’s the pipes!” Harry exclaimed, remembering Hermione’s scribbled notes in the margin. “That’s how I’ve been hearing it all year. The basilisk’s been going around through the pipes and getting people petrified instead of killed because-- because no one actually looked at it! Think about it! There was water with Mrs. Norris! Colin saw it through his camera! And Justin probably saw it through Nearly Headless Nick, but Nick couldn’t die again! And I’ll bet you anything that’s why Hermione had the mirror!”

“You’re right!” Ron gasped, leaning forward. “But that means… people are in danger! More than we thought- this basilisk thing isn’t going to keep making mistakes like this forever! We have to figure out how to kill it or… or tell someone about it!”

“We have to, but we’ve got to find out where it’s coming from first!” Harry ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’d picked up from his father. “Wait, Ron, you don’t suppose the girl who died fifty years ago is still here, do you?”

“What’s that supposed to me- oooh…. You mean if she’s a ghost?” Ron frowned thoughtfully. “But… who would she even be?”

“Don’t know.” Harry frowned. “There aren’t too many ghosts our age, I mean, the only one I can think of is--” Harry blinked in surprise, looking to Ron.

“You don’t think…” Ron stared at Harry with wide eyes. “Moaning Myrtle….?”

“I think it’s time we take another visit to the second floor bathroom.” Harry nodded. “Get ready. It’s not going to be fun.”

Ron groaned. “At least we aren’t following any stupid spiders.” 


	15. The Chamber of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s our only chance.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Otherwise--” A familiar sibilant hiss echoed through the hospital wing, taking him by surprise. Harry grabbed Ron’s arm. “Ron! Something’s happened!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! A couple of you missed us, and that's bound to count for something! Here's a 3500/+ word long chapter to make up for the week off! 
> 
> Stay tuned for next week, where our favorite twelve year old fights Tim Riddle and his Giant Snake.

“We’ve been hanging around Myrtle’s bathroom all year- talking to her all year, even! And not once did we think to ask why she was a ghost? I mean, sure, it might have been sort of rude, but she’s always offended about something.” Ron hissed to himself, scribbling viciously on a particularly ragged piece of parchment.

“Not like we could’ve made it there anymore, really.” Harry grumbled, scratching out a Potions ingredient he’d misspelled much more emphatically than necessary. “Everyone’s watching us. Like hawks. Or my mum.”

The teachers were growing especially cautious around Harry and Ron, especially now that Hermione, who was widely regarded as the brightest of the three of them, had fallen victim to the monster. Sneaking away for long enough to go into a girl’s bathroom, let alone one so close to the site of the first attack, was impossible. Harry, who had never wanted to get into a girls bathroom this much in his life, was understandably frustrated.

But then, as always, life got in the way during their first Transfiguration lesson of the week.

“I want all of you to remember that our exams have not been canceled. In a week’s time, on June first, we will begin testing.” McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom, her hands folded in front of her. “I hope you are all prepared.”

Seamus let out a loud groan before dropping his head onto his desk. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you were looking at it), nothing exploded.

“Hogwarts is a place of education, Mr. Finnigan. You are all here to learn-- and learning continues even in the darkest of times.” She intoned. “As such, all education will continue no matter the circumstances. And yes, that includes your year end exams.”

Harry shuddered, trying his best to keep a brave face for Ron’s sake. Exams? After all of the petrifications this year? Professor McGonagall had to be kidding! No one in their right mind would put studying hard first when there was a murderous monster roaming about the plumbing, petrifying innocent passers by right and left. He certainly wasn’t going to. His classmates seemed to be of the same opinion, thankfully, and the initially quiet statements of dissent had risen to something resembling a dull roar.

“That’s enough, students!” McGonagall turned back to her desk with a tired sigh. “There’s no point in arguing the matter, I’m afraid.”

“Hermione would be ecstatic,” Ron sighed, leaning his head on his hand. “She’d love to take the exams.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Harry looked down at the little rabbit he was supposed to be transfiguring, and winced as it looked back up at him. He didn’t know if rabbits could smile, but he could bet this one was smiling right now. How could he betray its fragile trust by turning it into footwear? Harry swallowed hard, steeling himself. He was going to fail these exams so badly that he might as well join Myrtle in the bathroom now instead of taking them.

“We’re going to die.” Ron mumbled miserably. 

* * *

Three days later, however, some good news came.

“I have some good news, students.” McGonagall smiled as she stood in Dumbledore’s place at the front of the Great Hall.

“Dumbledore’s coming back?” Several Ravenclaw first years asked.

“The Heir of Slytherin’s been caught!” yelled a Gryffindor.

“Quidditch is back!” Oliver exclaimed hopefully.

“The mandrakes are ready.” The professor corrected, a hint of relief coloring her words. “Which means, of course, that we’ll be able to revive those that have been petrified. Hopefully one of them will be able to inform us who, or what, attacked them.”

The Great Hall was filled with the sound of cheering and commotion, and when Harry looked over to the Slytherin table, he was not at all surprised to see that Draco Malfoy looked quite miffed. Good for him, really, because his happiness would have meant pain and suffering for countless others.

Ron grabbed his friend’s shoulder, a grin nearly splitting his face. “Did you hear that, Harry? That means they can fix the petrified students! Hermione is going to be okay!” He exclaimed. “Now we don’t even have to ask Myrtle anything, because Hermione will have all the answers. And she won’t even have to miss the final exams now! Though she hasn’t studied at all, so maybe it’ll be better to leave her be till they’re over.

His words were interrupted by a scraping noise to their left. Ginny had come in late, it seemed, and was only now taking a seat beside her brother. Her brown eyes were wide, and she continuously glanced up and down the table. Oddly, she didn’t touch any of the food laid out before them, instead twisting her hands in her lap.

“Something the matter?” Ron looked at his sister with a frown. She didn’t answer, instead choosing to shake her head nervously.

“I’m not an idiot. Spit it out, Ginny.” Ron demanded. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”

Harry, despite having known Ginny since she was an infant, thought first of Dobby rather than his friend when he saw how she was fidgeting.

“I… I have something to tell you.” Ginny finally whispered, glancing at Harry briefly before letting her gaze latch onto her brother again.

“Well what is it?” Ron dropped his own volume to match hers, eyebrows drawing together. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Ginny?” Harry leaned a little closer. “Is it about the Chamber?”

She stared at him silently for a moment before drawing a deep breath. Before she could speak, Percy appeared. He looked exhausted, but offered a wan smile to the three. “If you aren’t eating I’ll take your seat, Ginny. I’m absolutely famished.”

Ginny leapt to her feet and hurried away without a backwards glance, leaving Ron to glare up at his older brother. “Percy!” He said angrily. “She was about to tell us something important!”

Percy frowned back at the smaller Weasley, a hint of unease entering his eyes. “What sort of thing?”

“I don’t know. She was acting all nervous, like she’d seen something, and Harry asked if it was about the chamber--”

Percy let out an embarrassed snort, quickly fixing his glasses. “Oh-- no, Ronald, that’s not-- she didn’t- I don’t think that’s about the chamber at all.” He finally settled on.

“And how would you know?” Ron grumbled.

“If you must know, uh, Ginny, well she… She walked in on me the other day when we were-- when I was-- well, it doesn’t matter, of course, but, um. I asked her not to mention it! And I really had thought she’d keep her word, dreadful really. Not that it’s important, of course, I’d just rather--”

“What were you doing?” Ron demanded, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. It made him look far too much like the twins.

“Pass the rolls, please!” Percy squeaked as he turned a rather violent shade of red, and Ron, much to his displeasure, got nothing more out of that conversation. 

* * *

“Well, you’ll be back with us in a couple days, so that’s nice.” Harry patted Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione was still just as Petrified as she’d been for weeks now, and Madam Pomfrey quite used to the boys storming in to talk to Hermione while they should be in class. “Exams start soon, so that’s not nice.”

“You missed out on a lot of studying, and there isn’t really time to catch up.” Ron added. “But they’ll probably give you an extension.”

“Lucky you.” Harry said glumly. “Won’t be any such extensions for us. Ron and I are doomed.”

“Maybe they’ll all get canceled last minute and we won’t have to take them.” Ron sighed wistfully.

“It’s our only chance.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Otherwise--” A familiar sibilant hiss echoed through the hospital wing, taking him by surprise. _The girl… Come to me… Come..._ The voice said, and Harry grabbed Ron’s arm. “Ron! Something’s happened!”

Ron immediately looked to Hermione, who was as frozen as she had been moments before. “Uh…”

“Ron, we’ve got to talk to Myrtle--” Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait, Ron, you know how the snake’s using the pipes, right? What do you know that’s got a lot of pipes?”

He stared at Harry for a long moment. “An organ…?” He suggested uncertainly.

“A bathroom! And not just any bathroom, Moaning Myrtle’s! That’s why she’s still there! She died there!” Harry was practically bouncing up and down. “We’ve got to tell McGonagall!”

“She’ll be in the staff room-- or she’ll show up there eventually!” Ron leapt to his feet. “Come on!”

Harry and Ron raced toward the staff room, skidding to a stop right outside the door.

“No one’s around yet.” Harry looked into the suspiciously empty room. “Do they already know?”

As though cued by Harry’s words, McGonagall’s voice suddenly rang out from the walls of the corridor. “All students must return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers to the staff room immediately.”

Ron looked at Harry, aghast. “Another attack, maybe? Is that what you heard? … Should we go back to the dorms?”

“No, quick.” Harry pulled Ron into the staff room, opening a wardrobe before pushing his friend into it. “We’re gonna hide in here. They’re bound to know something we don’t, right?” He climbed in behind Ron, shutting the door just as the teachers began walking in.

“It’s finally happened.” McGonagall said thickly, her voice trembling. “A student… has been taken by the creature. Into the Chamber.”

There was immediately a smattering of dismayed noises, and Flitwick let out an alarmed, “what shall we do?”

“We’ll have to send the students home. As soon as possible-- maybe tonight.” She said. “Hogwarts will be closed. This is the end.”

“Professor?” James asked, very much sounding like he could live without the answer to his question. “Who’s the student? That’s been taken, I mean?”

McGonagall uttered a name, and Harry felt Ron slide silently to the bottom of the wardrobe beside him.

“Ginny Weasley.” 

* * *

The Gryffindor Common Room, which was usually bustling with activity at this hour, was surprisingly empty, save for four boys sitting close together near the center of the room. Fred, George, Ron and Harry had all clustered together hours before, when the announcement had come about Ginny, and had even, in a rare stroke of kindness, invited Percy to join. Percy, however, had chosen to write Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about the incident and retire to his own room.

“She knew something. She had to have. That’s what she was trying to tell us this morning.” Ron whispered, staring at the carpet. “She’s a pureblood… there’s no other reason she would have been taken.”

This was the worst Harry had ever felt. One of his closest friends had fallen victim to a problem that he had had the capacity to solve, but had set aside because of something as trivial as being watched by staff members. The Ginny he knew wouldn’t have cared one bit whether the teachers were watching if he was in danger, so he was not sure why he hadn’t paid her the same respect.

“... Do you think she’s still alive?” Ron asked.

“I don’t see how she could be, Ron.” Harry fixed his stare on the floor, following the patterns on the carpet to avoid looking his friend in the eye. “Ginny’s bound to have looked it in the eye by now.”

He didn’t answer at first, instead scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “We have to… we have to tell someone.” He sniffed.

“Or”, Harry said, an idea occurring to him suddenly. “We could go ahead ourselves. Ginny wouldn’t have waited for a teacher if it were either of us, would she?”

“Yeah but she’s Ginny.” Came the despondent answer. “We’re just… Not Ginny.”

“Come on, Ron.” Harry stood up abruptly, heading for the portrait hole. “We’ve got to end this.”

“End what?” A voice called uncertainly from behind them. Turning, the pair found Seamus Finnigan standing near the fireplace, a mug in either hand. “Uh, sorry to eavesdrop, but I was just coming to give you these… It’s… It’s just tea. But, uh, where are you going?”

“To a girls’ bathroom.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe fighting a snake. Nothing you’d find interesting.”

“... Are you going to save Ginny, then?” Seamus set the mugs down, his expression suddenly determined.

“Of course we are.” Harry nodded.

“I want to help.” He said.

“We could use as many people as we can get.” Harry looked to Ron. “No objections?”

“I just want to save my sister.” Ron said, squaring his shoulders. “So let’s go.”

Harry, Ron and Seamus marched out of the common room, heading toward Myrtle’s bathroom, and Harry studiously ignored the painted messages on the corridor wall as the walked past. Ron, by comparison, very nearly stopped when he saw the Heir’s pronouncement that Ginny’s skeleton would lie in the Chamber forever, but Harry grabbed his upper arm and kept going, dragging Ron behind him. Seamus moved behind them, effectively blocking the message as they hurried onward.

“Myrtle?” Harry called out. “Myrtle, it’s urgent! We need your help!”

Myrtle’s whining voice came from one of the empty stalls, which she promptly floated out of. “No one has ever asked for my help before.”

“Why are we talking to her?” Seamus hissed softly to Ron, who only shushed him.

“Myrtle, this may seem like an odd question. And I’m sincerely sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.” Harry trailed off, trying to find a polite way to put it. “How’d you die?”

Myrtle, contrary to Harry’s assumption, lit up as though someone had just reminded her it was her birthday. “Oh it was dreadful.” She giggled. “I died right there, in that stall! You see, Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses, so I came in here to cry. I heard the door open and someone came in and started whispering in some strange foreign language. But it was a boy, so I told him to go whisper in his own toilet. And then,” she beamed, “I died.”

“How?” Harry asked. “Did you see anything? Or hear anything?”

“Not really. There was this big pair of floating yellow eyes, and I sort of… seized up. Then I floated away from my body and up and up…” She sighed dreamily. “And then I came back, of course, to haunt Olive Hornby. She was sorry she ever laughed at my glasses.”

“Where were the eyes?” Ron asked.

“Oh, somewhere over there.” She waved vaguely towards the sinks.

Harry and Ron hurried to examine the sink, which looked quite ordinary. They looked over the counter, under the counter, and at one memorable point in the investigation, Ron even stuck his head under the tap in order to look up it. Harry barely resisted the urge to turn the tap on while his friend was under it, something he was quite proud of.

There would be other opportunities, when Ginny wasn’t in mortal danger and could help him.

And then Harry spotted it. Scratched on the side of the copper tap was a tiny snake. Harry brushed his thumb over it, hoping it wasn’t just a spot of dirt.

“That tap has never worked!” Myrtle said cheerfully.

“Say something in Parseltongue.” Ron urged.

“Open up.” Harry said, leveling a glare at the snake.

“... That was English, mate.” Seamus frowned.

Harry tilted his head, not sure how he was supposed to speak snake language to a fake snake. If he looked at it from this angle, with the lights from the walls flickering just right, he could almost imagine that it was moving.

“Open up.” He said again

Except this time, he didn’t hear himself, and a string of hisses escaped his mouth.

The sink suddenly began to emit a faint glow, and was soon sliding down and out of sight, whilst the two sinks on either side were pushed further away. This revealed a pipe wide enough for a grown man to slide down.

“I’m going down there.” Harry said resolutely. He couldn’t not go. It was simply not an option, so long as there was even the slimmest chance that Ginny might survive.

“Me too.” Ron said firmly.

“Me three, then.” Seamus pulled his wand from his sleeve.

Harry climbed into the tunnel, which was resembling a gross, slimy slide the more he thought about it, and pushed off before he could think about it more, wildly careening downward. He could hear Ron behind him, cursing loudly as he thudded against the pipe walls. He assumed the muffled squeaking was Seamus bringing up the rear.

And, just as Harry had begun to worry, the pipe leveled out, spitting him out onto solid ground. Ron followed a few seconds later, nearly landing on top of him. Seamus, in comparison, landed on top of Ron.

“We must be miles under the school.” Harry whispered, looking around. The tunnel they were in was black, and water dripped from the ceiling, droplets plopping quietly against the floor.

His friend stared up at the cavern’s ceiling, squinting in the gloom. “Under the lake, probably.”

“Lumos.” The tip of Harry’s wand lit up and he started to walk down the dark tunnel, motioning for Ron to follow. “Close your eyes if you hear anything moving. We can’t risk dying down here too. Then Ginny’s got no one.”

Ron nodded silently, and they fell into step behind Harry. Their feet crunched over tiny animal bones that littered the ground, but none of them dared to look down.

Harry slunk forward, wand light held out in front of him, and winced as it illuminated a snakeskin lying on the wet tunnel floor. It looked like it was at least twenty feet long, and nearly Harry’s height in width. The creature that had shed it must have been gigantic.

“We’re dead.” Ron whispered. “Completely and utterly dead. This is the end, boys.”

Something suddenly skittered through the bones behind them. Seamus let out a shriek of terror before whirling around, his wand at the ready. Despite the noise being too small to really be a snake of substantial size, a panicked blast escaped the tip of their classmate’s wand.

“Move!” Ron roared, shoving Harry away as the walls shuddered, and he crashed to the ground. Harry stumbled forward a few steps, which was good considering that, a couple seconds later, a wall of rock came down right where he had been standing.

“Ron? Seamus?” Harry whispered, slowly approaching the wall. He could see a few gaps in the rock, so hopefully his friends could hear him. “You two okay?”

There was a low groan before Ron spoke up. “We’re okay… Don’t worry about us-- you have to keep going!”

“Nobody’s hurt or anything, right?” Harry looked over his shoulder at the rest of the tunnel, which seemed to go on forever.

“I think I twisted my ankle- even if I were over there I wouldn’t be much help now.” Seamus called. “I can try and move some of these rocks out of the way, though!”

“Try to clear the passage-- if we need to run, that’ll be good.” Harry nodded, before turning around. “I’ll go ahead. If you hear screaming, try to get back up and call a teacher.”

“You’d better protect my sister! And yourself! Don’t die!” Ron shouted.

Harry started walking, and soon, the noise of his friends trying to clear the passageway faded until he could no longer hear it. The tunnel turned left and right, and Harry was left to simply hope that he was going in the right direction. He was known within his family for his horrible sense of direction, and this tunnel certainly wasn’t making it any better.

He desperately wanted the tunnel to end, but he could wait if that meant finding the snake. Or a dead Ginny. She had already been down here for hours, and there was no way she hadn’t looked it in the eyes already. As a precaution, he kept his eyes trained on the floor. The floor was watery enough that he might get Petrified at worst, and he hoped that Ron would run if he heard the snake coming.

It was bad enough that his friend had lost Hermione-- at least they could comfort each other in Harry’s absence, if he did, indeed, die down here. His parents would be glad of one less mouth to feed, although, Harry hoped, they might come to their senses and realize how much he did for them. However, judging by the sharp, downward turn his luck had been taking lately, that wasn’t very likely.

Harry was so absorbed in his unnecessarily morbid thoughts that he nearly bumped into a door, with two metallic snakes across it. The snakes’ eyes were emeralds, leaving no doubt as to who had put them there. These snakes, unlike the ones carved on the tap, looked very much alive, so much so that Harry was having trouble looking at them, let alone talking to them.

“Open”, he said again, hoping his tone was firm enough that they’d listen. The serpents slithered back, disappearing into the shadows, and the door swung open.

Harry steeled himself for what lay ahead, trying his best to still the shaking of his arms and legs, and stepped forward.


	16. The Heir of Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ginny!" Harry yelled, concern evident in his voice, and ran to her side. "Ginny?" He grew more exasperated and worried as she did not reply, and finally composed himself enough to notice that her chest was rising and falling, although the movement was quite weak. She was alive-- for now. "Ginny, we've got to get out of here. There's a snake, and I don't know how much you know about snakes, but they are really not very happy about people barging in uninvited, usually."
> 
> “She isn’t going to hear you.” Said a soft voice.

The chamber itself was terrifying in it’s vast size alone. Towering pillars rose to a cavernous ceiling, nearly lost in darkness. More serpents carved from stone loomed in the shadows cast by the strange greenish light that seemed to settle over the hall.

Harry grimaced as he noticed that the heads of the stone serpents were nearly three times the size of his own-- whoever had built this chamber was aiming to intimidate, and had certainly not meant for twelve year olds to come visiting.

He began walking toward the far end of the hall, hoping Ginny was still safe. Maybe she was just waiting here, having thought that this would be a splendid opportunity for a joke, and Harry would just have to have a talk with her about picking appropriate locations to stage your own death. Then they could grab Ron and Seamus, and get out of here without meeting the basilisk, the thought of which terrified Harry more than a little.

As he approached the end of the chamber, he came to a stop.

A statue of a wizard’s face as tall as the Chamber itself loomed above him. Its face was ancient and decrepit, nearly crumbling from what Harry assumed was old age. The wizard’s beard fell nearly to the ends of his robes, which swept the floor and were parted only by two enormous stone feet. Between those feet lay a figure that suddenly seemed impossibly small. She was face down against the floor, her red hair spread in a damp puddle about her head.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled, concern evident in his voice, and ran to her side. "Ginny?" He grew more exasperated and worried as she did not reply, and finally composed himself enough to notice that her chest was rising and falling, although the movement was quite weak. She was alive-- for now. "Ginny, we've got to get out of here. There's a snake, and I don't know how much you know about snakes, but they are really not very happy about people barging in uninvited, usually."

“She isn’t going to hear you.” Said a soft voice.

"Tom!" Harry nearly laughed in relief. Tom certainly wasn't the best choice, considering his horrible treatment of Hagrid, but any help was better than none. "Tom, you've got to help me get her out of here! She might be hurt!"

Tom didn’t move from where he was leaning against the nearest pillar. Harry could have sworn he hadn’t been there a moment earlier, but he shrugged off the thought. The young man watched him with cold eyes, a strange figure surrounded by a misty sort of light. He didn’t look a day over sixteen, despite the date on the diary.

"Aren't you supposed to be seventy and bald by now?" Harry frowned. If Tom had been sixteen back before Harry's dad had been born, then he had to be at least seventy, considering Harry’s own father was pretty old. Numbers had never been Harry's strong suit.

“Don’t be daft,” his voice was soft, and yet it seemed to echo throughout the chamber. “I’m a memory. A memory that has been preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

He nodded towards the floor near the statue’s toes. Laying there was the black diary that Harry had discovered the boy in weeks earlier. Briefly, he wondered how it had gotten into the Chamber, but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"Tom, please, the snake might come. You can tell me all about your diary thing later. As soon as we get her out." Harry tried to lift Ginny, but failed miserably. "Come on, Tom." Harry, suddenly remembering that he was a wizard, went to grab his wand and found it mysteriously missing. "Where could that have gone?"

Tom twirled the wand between his pale fingers, looking rather bored. “What’s your rush? The basilisk won’t come until it’s been called.”

"Yeah, which is why we have to get out of here before the Heir shows up!" Harry groaned. Tom was truly proving himself to be an old man in action, if not in appearance. "Hurry up and help!"

“I don’t think I shall.” Tom sighed. “You see, I’ve waited a long time for this moment. This chance. I’ve been waiting to speak to you, Harry Potter. Your father is who I really need a word with, but you’ll do nicely in the interim.”

"Good luck getting a word out of him." Harry snickered. "Even Amma has a tough time doing that and she's known him forever."

Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a nasty smirk began growing on his lips. “I can be quite persuasive, I assure you. Just ask your friend Ginny there.”

"I'd ask her, but she's not really in the mood for answering." Harry lifted up Ginny's limp hand and let it flop back onto the chamber floor for effect. "And I'm beginning to think you've got something to do with that."

“It’s her own fault, really.” Tom slipped the wand into his robe, his smile only growing. “Her mother should have told her not to talk to strangers.”

"What did you do to her?" Talking to a complete stranger about anything was terribly inconsistent with anything Harry knew about Ginny, but then again, not much of her behavior this year had been. "You used the diary to hurt her somehow, didn’t you?”

“You should take more pity on me than on her. Have you ever spent a year listening to an eleven year-old girl’s complaining? Little Ginny has been whining to me all year. Writing in my diary day in and day out.”

"Any one thing she's said is worth ten hours of your whining." Harry frowned. "Besides, she's my friend and you're a liar, so I'm not really going to feel much about you if I can avoid it."

“Oh, you’re her friend, are you?” His eyes took on a hungry glint. “How odd. One would think she would confide her secrets in her friends. I was under the impression she didn’t have any.”

"She's got tons of friends. Tons more than you, I bet." Harry was quite angry, but he had to concede that Tom had a point. He hadn't done as well as he could have by Ginny this year. And maybe, if Tom would lift a finger to help or give Harry his wand back, he could make it up to her next year. But that didn't look very likely, so Harry was constructing his apology instead, because there was no way in hell Ginny was accepting anything merely half-decent after this.

“Oh I’m quite good at making friends.” Tom assured him. “I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. Ginny was only one of many, I’m afraid. I was such a good friend to her. Always ready to listen… always sympathetic.. She poured her soul into me and my diary. Which is exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger, thriving on her deepest fears. Her darkest secrets. I grew more powerful than she could ever hope to be. Powerful enough to begin pouring my secrets into her. Putting some of my soul into her.”

"That's gross." Harry grimaced, looking to Ginny, who remained unconscious. He snatched up her hand, as if that would help her come back, and squeezed it tight. "You're like a reverse soul vampire."

Riddle laughed. The sound was grating and unnatural, as though he was never meant to make such a noise. “You really haven’t guessed it, yet, have you?” He said softly.

"Guessed what?" Harry asked, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach alerting him just a few seconds too late to the fact that this may not be a question he wanted answered.

“Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets.” He said, his calm tone a direct contrast to the manic glee that was encroaching upon his face. “She strangled the school roosters and wrote messages across the walls. She set my serpent on the four mudbloods and on that wretched squib’s cat.”

"Ginny couldn't be the Heir!" Harry yelled, trying to put on a brave face. But Tom’s declaration made far too much sense. Ginny's oddly timed absences and her sudden need to tell them about the chamber-- it all matched up too well. And then another memory came to mind, one nearly a year old, of an extra book being slipped into Ginny's cauldron. "It wasn't just her though, was it?"

Tom’s cold laughter filled the chamber once again, and he moved away from the pillar. “Of course not. Do you really think I’d put all my eggs in one basket? I’ve seen things, Harry Potter... Met many interesting people.”

"You made her do it!" Harry pointed at Tom. "Set her right! It's me that you want words with, right? Then keep me and let her go."

Tom continued as though Harry hadn’t spoken. “But she couldn’t do all those things, oh no. She couldn’t be the heir-- not a pathetic little blood traitor. A stupid little girl could never be the Heir of Salazar Slytherin-- the greatest of the four founders. She didn’t even know what she was doing. Not at first.”

"She isn't stupid or pathetic! You used her to do your dirty work because you couldn't do it yourself!" Harry spat at Tom's feet, or rather, in their general direction. "You're disgusting!"

“Oh how I wish you could have seen her new diary entries,” he continued. Tom raised his voice into a wavering falsetto-- a cruel mockery of Ginny. “Dear Tom, I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat got attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. My other brothers are worried about me. I think they suspect me… There was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad… I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”

"She wasn't! You were!" Harry screamed. "Why would you do this? What do you have to gain?"

“Of course it wasn’t her. Not really.” Tom grinned. “I got almost exactly what I wanted once she grew suspicious of my diary. She tried to dispose of it, you see. And who found it but one of the people I wanted to meet… You.”

"Why would you want to meet me?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not famous or anything."

“You see, Ginny is quite fond of you. She talked all about you and your family. Your… fascinating history.” Tom sneered, his expression growing hungrier. “And really, I was hoping it would be your father that would make the journey down here to save the little wretch. But you’ll have to do until he comes along, won’t you? So I had to make you trust me. Had to show you how I caught Hagrid all those years ago.”

"You're horrible! Hagrid was innocent and he got expelled and barely got a job here!" Harry was nearly out of breath from yelling, the hand that wasn't holding Ginny's balling tightly into a fist. "And my dad won't risk coming down here. He'll be getting Dumbledore with the rest so he can finish you off."

“You think I’m scared of Dumbledore? After all I’ve accomplished?” He snorted.

"You're sixteen." Harry frowned. "What do you mean accomplished?"

“I’ve told you, Harry. This version of me is merely a memory. A copy left behind so that one day I might be able to finish what I’d started, opening the Chamber the first time.”

"No one died this time! You didn't succeed!"

“Killing those mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore.” Tom murmured, a triumphant gleam entering his eyes. “I’ve had a different target for months now. Your father.”

"Why? He sucks." Harry was honestly surprised. Who had a reason to target his father, other than Snape? And most other people? The pool of suspects was widening further with every second Harry put thought into it.

“How is it that a disgusting little worm like him-- an idiot with no real magical talent-- managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did he escape when Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

"I'm pretty sure he's never beaten Dumbledore." Harry frowned in confusion. "And he escaped because-- wait a second, why are you so up in arms about Voldemort? He was after your time, right?"

“Lord Voldemort,” Riddle intoned, “is my past, present, and future.”

He pulled Harry’s wand from his robe and began to write in the air with it, leaving behind shimmering letters.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

With a flick of the wand, the letters began to rearrange themselves.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“Don’t you understand?” He whispered, a manic tone creeping into his words. “It was a name I had already begun to use during my time at Hogwarts. Only my closest of friends knew of it, of course. I couldn’t continue being Tom Riddle.” He spat the name like it was poison on his tongue. “I wouldn’t use my filthy muggle father’s name. Oh no… So I fashioned myself a new name. One that witches and wizards the world over would fear. They would tremble at the mention of it- they would be too terrified to even utter such a name! I would become the world’s greatest sorcerer, and none would stand in my path!”

“You’re never going to be the greatest sorcerer in the world.” Harry tried to sound as brave as he could, given the circumstances. Right in front of him was the man who had nearly murdered him and his parents, along with many of their friends. Harry could ruin him right now, exact revenge for so many of the people he loved. “That’s Albus Dumbledore.”

The smile turned into a snarl, and Tom advanced several more steps. “That old fool has been driven from the castle by the mere memory of me.” He hissed.

Before Harry could think to make a retort, an eerie sound filled the echoing chamber. Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around, but the hall was empty. The sound swelled, growing louder by the second. It was an other-worldly sort of song that resonated in Harry’s ribs. Just when he thought he might burst from the force of it, a column of flame erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A bird swooped through the air, leaving a trail of sparks in it’s wake. It continued singing as it flew straight at Harry, a ragged bundle clutched between golden talons. It dropped it at his feet before landing heavily on his shoulder. The creature settled down, turning it’s head to stare at Harry with one beady black eye.

“That’s a phoenix…” said Riddle, narrowing his eyes.

“Fawkes!” Harry reached up to pet the bird. “Hey!”

“Is that the sorting hat?” Riddle said incredulously. Sure enough, at Harry’s feet lay a patched and frayed lump of fabric.

After a long silence that hung in the air like a body at the gallows, Riddle began to laugh. He laughed so hard he was bent double, and the chamber echoed with the high, reedy noise.

“This is what Dumbledore sends you? A bird and a dirty old hat? How about it, Harry Potter, do you feel safe now? Are you going to defeat me with this?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, not one to back down from a challenge. “Runs in the family.”

“How is it… that a filthy blood traitor like your father defeated me?” He stalked forward again, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Magic that you didn’t know about.” Harry shrugged. Ginny was looking weaker and weaker by the minute, while Tom grew more and more solid. Maybe his comment about Tom being a reverse soul vampire hadn’t been too far off. “Also, there was apparently a punch or two in there. Took your nose out. Just warning you so you’re not too disappointed in another forty years, you know.”

A momentary flash of confusion colored Tom’s features, quickly replaced with a smug smile. “If that’s how you’re going to be, I suppose we’ll have to have a test of skill. The power of Lord Voldemort, Heir to Salazar Slytherin, against poor little Harry Potter… and the best weapons Dumbledore could supply, of course.” He smirked down at Fawkes and the Sorting Hat in amusement.

The figure turned and began walking away, only to stop between a pair of pillars. He tilted his head back to stare into the face of Slytherin’s statue, and when he spoke it was no longer in English. He hissed out words that Harry could understand.

_“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”_

Harry watched in horror as the statue’s mouth suddenly opened, wider and wider, as though he were actually about to speak. Soon a gaping black hole was revealed. Something stirred inside, and a creature began slithering up from the depths.

Fawkes cawed once, then flew away, and Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could. At least, this way, he wouldn’t die straight off the bat.

Something huge hit the stone floor, causing it to shudder beneath Harry. He could hear the basilisk uncoiling, slithering forward, and then Riddle’s voice hissed once more.

“ _Kill him_.”

Harry began running, hands out in front of him to make sure he didn’t run into any of the pillars. It was the only thing he could think of, even though he was well aware that a snake as large as the basilisk certainly was could easily overtake a twelve year old.

Something slimy hit Harry in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. A series of loud screeching noises rang out behind Harry, and he turned around slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the watery floor. Fawkes had flown up to the basilisk’s head and was digging his claws into the snake’s eyes, effectively blinding it. If the snake was blind, then Harry was only in danger of dying by being bitten. And avoiding only one cause of death was certainly easier than two.

The basilisk was shrieking and spitting in agony as Fawkes circled the now blinded creature.

“ _LEAVE THE BIRD!_ ” Riddle shrieked. “ _FORGET THE BIRD-- GO AFTER THE BOY! KILL THE BOY!_ ”

“Some help would be nice!” Harry tried to keep the edge of panic out of his voice, as he noticed the snake’s tail catching on the brim of the Sorting Hat. Thankfully, when the basilisk finally managed to get it off, it flew toward Harry, who easily grabbed it out of the air. Maybe the Hat was connected to Dumbledore, or someone else somehow, and that could get him some help. Harry jammed the Hat onto his head, thinking as loudly as he could for help, and winced as something large and heavy fell on his head. Thankfully, it didn’t smell, so that ruled out the worst possible option.

He carefully pulled the hat off of his head, reaching inside to find what had dropped onto his head, and nearly gasped in surprise when his hand closed around something metal and cold. That could have gone wrong quite fast.

Harry pulled the object out of the hat, only barely having time to notice it was a sword before the basilisk lunged at him. Harry swung the sword in the direction of the snake’s head, and barely clipped its jaw. The basilisk, now even more angry, lunged forward again and Harry reached out just far enough to shove the sword through the roof of its mouth. Suddenly, he felt a searing pain in his arm, and as he pulled the sword out, it was quite easy to tell why. One of the basilisk’s fangs was lodged in his arm.

Noticing the wound seemed to make the poison’s effects begin to take hold, and Harry, already dizzy, pulled the fang out of his arm before collapsing. His vision swam, and he barely managed to stay awake. After everything he had done over the last two years, he was going to die alone, under a broken girls’ bathroom, and Myrtle would likely hold him prisoner forever. At least the snake was dead, so Ron might not be hurt. But there was a bigger threat at hand, and one he couldn’t warn his friend about. He’d saved the school from the snake, but in the end, he’d failed to save Ginny. Lord Voldemort would rise again, and it’d all be Harry’s fault.

Fawkes landed softly on Harry’s arm and he smiled at the bird. “Good job, Fawkes. You did great out there.”

He could hear echoing footsteps, and then Riddle was standing over him. “You’re dead, Harry Potter.” He said calmly. “Even Dumbledore’s worthless bird knows it. Can you see what he’s doing? He’s crying.”

Sure enough, Fawkes laid his head against Harry’s wound as fat tears trickled down his feathers.

“I’m going to watch you die.” Riddle decided. “And then I’ll go and find your father as well. Perhaps your mudblood mother and siblings, too.”

“My mother’s worth ten of you.” Harry spat out. Those were a good set of last words. Something nice to end on. Maybe he wouldn’t be grounded posthumously. Oddly enough, with each passing second, he felt much less like he was dying. And then it occurred to him-- Fawkes was a phoenix! Fawkes’ tears could heal anything! And Riddle had said that Fawkes was crying.

“Get away,” Riddle suddenly hissed, “I said get away from him, bird--!”

Harry sat up as Tom pulled his wand out once more and pointed it at the phoenix. Fawkes took flight in a whirl of gold and scarlet as Riddle spoke quietly, his gaze trained on Harry’s arm. “Phoenix tears… healing powers… I forgot… But it makes no difference- I’ll kill you myself.”

As though prompted by his threat, Fawkes soared overhead and something fell into Harry’s lap. The diary.

Harry stabbed the fang, which was still tightly gripped in his left hand, through the middle of the book. At once, ink oozed out like blood, flowing out of the hole Harry had made and over the pages onto the floor. A similar hole appeared in Tom, who looked extremely surprised by this turn of events, and Harry knew what he had to do. He closed the diary before jabbing the fang as far as he could into it, twisting it back and forth to get the venom in as deeply as possible.

Tom let out a terrible scream, his entire form twisting almost grotesquely. Ink spurted from the diary, spilling over his hands as the figure standing over him began to writhe. A moment later the hazy light that had hovered around him grew too bright to look at, and then he was gone.

Harry grabbed up the sword, which had fallen to the floor when he had, and ran to Ginny’s side. Hopefully, with Tom’s hold over her gone, she would wake. He shook her shoulder as gently as he could. “Hey, Ginny?”

She stirred, a low groan coming from her mouth. After a moment she sat up, looking rather dazed.

“You’re alive!” Harry was quite relieved. One death was enough for today.

Ginny’s gaze traveled from Harry to the dead basilisk, and then back to Harry, and finally to the ruined diary in his hand. She drew in a shuddering gasp and promptly burst into tears.

“I’m sorry-- Harry, I’m sorry-- I tried to t-tell you at breakfast but I just couldn’t say it in front of Pe-Percy and- it was me, Harry! But I didn’t-- I swear I didn’t mean to! Ri--Riddle-- he-- Tom made me-- He took m-me over and-- Oh, how did you kill th-that thing? I just… All I can r-remember is Tom coming out of the diary and-”

“Well, he’s dead, so that’s over with.” Harry nodded awkwardly. Drew would honestly be much better to have, in this case, considering he was both good at comforting crying people and climbing slides. Getting out of here was going to be quite a hassle in that regard, considering the entrance was a slide and Harry had never really been good at going up or down those. As a child, he’d spent most of the time he could have spent climbing slides sitting on the floor and crying until everyone paid attention to him. “So’s the snake. I think. I didn’t check. Want to?”

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept, burying her face in her hands. “I-I’ve always wanted to come here, ever since Bill did! And now I’ll have to g-go home and- what will mum and dad say?”

“Cheer up, Ginny. I haven’t been expelled and I technically killed a teacher last year!” Harry patted her shoulder. “You didn’t kill anybody. Plus, I know it was Tom, and my mum does too. We’ll stick up for you if they try anything. You’ll be back next year with the rest of us. Promise.”

Harry awkwardly helped Ginny to her feet as she continued wiping at her face in an attempt to stop crying. Fawkes as waiting for them near the Chamber’s entrance, and Harry urged the first year around the basilisk’s probably-dead corpse and back into the tunnel. They both watched the stone doors close behind them, and in the silence that followed only Ginny’s sniffling could be heard.

“Ron and Seamus are just down the tunnel there.” Harry urged her forward. “Not sure if they’ve gotten much of the rock out of the way yet, though. Then there’s the climb up that we’ve got to deal with.”

“I don’t know how to get back up.” Ginny whispered miserably.

“Oh, don’t worry, neither do I.” Harry shrugged. “We’ve got a sword, a broken evil diary, you and me. Don’t suppose we could build a ladder or anything.”

Ginny didn’t laugh at his joke, and the two began making their way down the dark tunnel. After a few minutes of walking, the sound of rocks shifting could be heard ahead.

“Ron! Seamus!” Harry called out, running ahead. “Ginny’s fine!”

Ron let out a strangled cheer, and a moment later his face appeared in the gap they had managed to create. “Ginny!” He quickly thrust his arms through the hole in order to help her through. “You’re okay! I don’t believe it- I was so worried! What happened? How--Where did the bird come from?”

“Fawkes? Oh, Dumbledore sent him.” Harry squeezed himself through the hole once Ginny had gone through, nearly falling over in his hurry to get to the other side. “It was wicked, Ron! I nearly died!”

“Is this going to be a regular thing? Because this happened last year too.” Seamus recalled uncertainly.

“Hope not.” Harry grimaced. “Twice is more than enough for me.”

“How are we supposed to get out of here?” Ron asked. Ginny was standing miserably at his side, and he was holding her hand as though to keep her from disappearing again. “I’m sick of caves and bathrooms.”

“Just for you, Ronniekins, I’ll die somewhere nice next year.” Harry grumbled. “Like a sunny field or something.”

“I appreciate it.” Ron said. “Really, you’re a true friend.”

Fawkes suddenly swooped down to hover in front of Harry, his beady eyes bright in the dim lighting. He was waving his tail feathers about as though attempting to convey some sort of message.

“Anyone here speak bird?” Harry looked around. “I’d help, but the only snake in here’s dead.”

“I don’t think snakes speak bird either, really.” Seamus mused.

“Dunno. Does it have an idea to get out? Cause I’m all ears.” Ron watched Fawkes curiously.

“I hope he’s not asking us to dance.” Harry shuddered. “Can’t do that.”

“Maybe he wants us to grab on?” Seamus suggested hesitantly.

“We’re way too heavy for a bird to carry.” Ron protested.

“It’s a magic bird.” Harry grabbed a tail feather, hoping he wasn’t wrong. Hermione would have known the answer. If he made it out alive, he was going to read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them from cover to cover this summer-- he seemed to be constantly stuck in situations where he needed to know it off the top of his head. “It can probably carry us? Right?”

“Guess it’s worth a shot.” Ron mumbled. Seamus grabbed Ginny’s other hand as Ron latched onto the back of Harry’s robes.

Suddenly, Harry felt much lighter than he was, and Fawkes began to fly toward the opening of the tunnel. He kept a tight grip on the tail feather he was holding as he looked around, and thankfully, Seamus, Ron and Ginny seemed just as stunned as he did at this new development. Fawkes flew out into the bathroom, dumping them all onto the floor, and the passage closed after them, hopefully never to be opened again.

Harry was the first to rise, helping up Ron immediately after. “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore’s office. Tell them Ginny’s fine.”

Myrtle was floating nearby, goggling at the four of them like they had returned from the dead. In some ways they had, really.

“You’re alive.”

“No time for that,” Ron frowned, “Harry’s right.”

“Come on!” Harry ran for it, hoping his friends would follow. “They’ve probably told all of our parents that we’re dead and--” He suddenly slowed to a stop. “Oh no, they’ve probably told all of our parents that we’re dead.”

“My mum is going to kill us.” Ron whispered in horror. Ginny, to her credit, did not start crying again, but rather squared her shoulders as though bracing for the inevitable.

“From the way you two talk, I’m more scared for Harry.” Seamus winced.

“Amma’s going to kill me, then Appa’s going to bring me back and kill me, then they’ll both bring me back and set Sarah and the triplets on me. Then I’ll be dead three whole times.” Harry said glumly, now much less enthusiastic about going to Dumbledore’s office. He kept going forward, and sooner than later, they were in front of the familiar spiral staircase. “Right, uh, someone start guessing sweets.”

It took them a solid fifteen minutes to guess the correct candy-- it turned out to be sherbert lemons, which Seamus declared to be absolutely horrid. The four of them trooped up the stairs, and finally made their way-- covered in muck, slime, and in Harry’s case blood-- into the Headmaster’s office.

“So.” Harry said, as cheerfully as possible. “No one died!”

There was a beat of silence as the assembled parents stared in mute shock. Then Mrs. Weasley screamed.

“Ginny!” She had been sobbing in front of the fire, it seemed, but now stood in order to fling herself at her daughter, followed closely by Mr. Weasley.

“Do I get to say he’s dead to me, Lily? Because he is.” James looked positively furious. “Hari, you’re fired.”

“Is that _blood_?” Lily demanded.

“Yes.” Harry fidgeted nervously, deciding that telling the truth would be, by far, the preferable option. People who lied to his mother usually didn’t turn out well, and one look at Severus Snape was more than enough to prove that.

Lily crossed the room quickly, grabbing Harry as though to inspect him for wounds. “Is it yours?”

“It’s okay. The basilisk bit me, but Fawkes cried on it and now I’m all better.” Harry nodded seriously, as if this would fix everything. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Do phoenix tears fix other things?” James muttered, following his wife over. “Because your little secretive hero thing is starting to get on people’s nerves.”

“But he saved Ginny!” Seamus exclaimed, only to shrink back when all eyes were directed towards him.

“I did.” Harry nodded. “Fought off the snake and the weird diary guy and everything. Turns out, there was some creepy dude hanging around in that diary.”

“I told you to get rid of it!” Lily exclaimed, her grip on Harry’s shoulders tightening as she kneeled down to his height.

“I did!” Harry nodded eagerly. “You’ve got to believe me, it was some weird mess that would take hours to really explain, but all that matters is that we are all alive and safe and nobody should be expelled.”

“Alright, you’ll have to slow that down a little bit for the rest of us.” James ruffled Harry’s hair.

“A thorough explanation would be… appreciated, certainly.” McGonagall prompted, an eyebrow raised.

Harry tried to stretch the story for as long as possible to keep the adults occupied, carefully keeping any mention of Ginny’s connection to the diary under wraps, and made sure to spend quite a bit of time on the cool part where he stabbed a snake all by himself. Ginny was watching him silently the entire time, her head against Mrs. Weasley with tears silently gathering in her eyes.

“And that’s really it.” He nodded. “Everyone’s fine. Seamus’ ankle needs to be looked at, though.”

“Why don’t you go to the hospital wing with the Weasleys, Mr. Finnigan? I’m sure Ginny needs to be looked at as well.” Dumbledore suggested calmly.

“Professor, why would Ginny need any looking at?” Harry tried to look as innocent as possible. If he were Ginny, he wouldn’t want everyone finding out what had happened to him. Better to try and cover it up now and let her explain it on her own terms later. Any friend owed their friend that courtesy. “She was just in the Chamber. Unless you know something that I don’t.”

“I’m only curious as to how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania.” Dumbledore said gently.

“Maybe he’s still in Albania. I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “But I think someone should be asking Lucius Malfoy what he’s doing planting evil stuff in kids’ cauldrons.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and folded his hands on the desk.

“The diary!” Ginny suddenly exclaimed, looking stricken. “Harry, you don’t mean-!”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, the weight of that realization finally hitting him. If Lord Voldemort had found one way back, who’s to say that there weren’t tons of these diaries, hidden places where people like Lucius Malfoy could hand them to children? “That’s, uh, exactly what I mean.”

Ginny looked as though she was ready to collapse again when Mr. Weasley began spluttering in confusion. “Lucius Malfoy- Diary? What diary? Ginny, what is he talking about?”

“His diary,” she whispered miserably. The first year gestured towards the ruined book still clutched in Harry’s hand. “I… I’ve been writing in i-it all year and he’s been writing back…”

The Weasleys all looked rather sick to their stomachs, but Mrs. Weasley only clutched her daughter close to her chest.

“Well, I’ve gone and broken that, so it’s safe to say no one’s talking to anyone through that anymore.” Harry shrugged. It was only a matter of time before they began asking him for the truth, and he hardly wanted to reveal the conversation he’d had. More than anything, he wanted to be out of this office and far away from Dumbledore, who seemed dead set on proving that he deserved none of the loyalty Harry had shown him in the Chamber.

“You did a wonderful job, Harry. Thank you.” Dumbledore rose to his feet. “I believe Miss Weasley and Mister Finnigan should head to the hospital wing. Bed rest and a large mug of hot chocolate, perhaps. I often find that cheers me up.” He smiled kindly down at the traumatized girl. “You’ll find Madame Pomfrey administering the mandrake juice- I daresay the basilisk’s victims will be waking up at any moment.”

“Then Hermione’s okay!” Ron said brightly.

“No lasting harm has been done, Ginny.” Dumbledore assured.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley escorted the shaking Ginny from the room, and Ron grinned at Harry before helping Seamus hobble out after them.

Harry returned the grin, although his could only be called strained at best. “Give Hermione my best, alright?”

“You bet!” Ron called as the door shut behind them.

The minute his friends were out of the door, Harry’s entire demeanor changed. He seemed to shrink in on himself, nervously tapping his foot as if that would make time move faster. He kept glancing toward the door, as if he were hoping that Ron and Ginny would walk back in, but the door remained stubbornly closed.

Lily quickly wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, her free hand moving to smooth his hair back. Harry shuffled closer to her.“We’ll be leaving, too.” She said firmly.

“Yeah, we should do that.” Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t want to get the floor all gross.”

“You need a bath.” Lily agreed. “James?”

“Yeah.” James nodded. “Anyone would need a break, after what we’ve put him through this year.”

“Harry..” Dumbledore spoke gently from where he was still standing by his desk, earning him a scowl from Lily. “I want to thank you. You showed true bravery down in the chamber- as is evident by what the sorting hat has chosen to give you.” He gestured with a wrinkled hand towards the sword still clutched in Harry’s hand. Despite the thick blood and ink that coated the blade, it still seemed to shine in the light.

“It gave me a sword.” Harry shrugged. “I feel like anyone would poke the snake if they were given the sword, really.”

“That is no ordinary sword, my boy. That’s the sword of Godric Gryffindor.” Dumbledore said.

“That’s nice. If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a busy afternoon of getting the hell out of here planned.” James started for the doorway.

“Good day.” Lily said coldly. She didn’t remove her hand from Harry’s shoulder as the trio exited Dumbledore’s office, or as they descended the spiral staircase.

“Look at you.” James said, as soon as the door swung shut behind them. “You just took on Dumbledore, mate. I knew we raised you well.”

“Yeah.” Harry managed a weak smile. “Hey Amma? Does this mean I’m your favorite, since I’ve killed Voldemort and beat Dumbledore and I did it faster than Appa did?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve made me totally forget about him.” Lily said, smiling softly at her son. “Who’s James Potter?”

“It’s a mystery.” James nodded sagely, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Truly a mystery.”

* * *

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment out of his school bag, which had been collecting dust since he’d come home two weeks before, and placed it on his desk. If anything, the summer holidays had kept him busier than school had-- between Anne’s “Hooray You’re Not In Prison” party for Hagrid and Drew and Sarah learning Quidditch, he’d hardly had a moment to himself.

Speaking of annoying siblings taking up any scrap of alone-time he might have had, the door to his room suddenly opened. Anne trooped in, her hair pulled back in some elaborate braid and a book in her hand. “Hide this for me!” She demanded, thrusting it into Harry’s hands along with his parchment.

“Diaries are evil. Also, what is this and why am I hiding it?” Harry went to open the book.

“It isn’t a diary- and if it was I certainly wouldn’t be giving it to you.” Anne said, as imperiously as an eight year-old could. “It’s Sarah’s. She cheated during hide and seek so I’m hiding her stuff.”

“How did she cheat?” Harry pulled a face. “Matt’s the one that won. Plus, if you’re seeking, he stands right there in front of you. That’s only if you ask him nicely, though.”

“Matt doesn’t count!” She insisted. “Sarah says she’s gonna count and then she just sits around and reads until you get sick of hiding! Then she says she’s found you when you come out!”

“That’s just Sarah.” He shrugged. “You can’t get mad at her. And technically, she did find you.”

“Do you want me to hide your stuff next?” Anne asked, crossing her arms.

“Course not.” Harry ruffled her hair. “Want to help me with something? Got to ask Hermione to come over in a couple weeks. Amma says I’m allowed to have a proper birthday this year because I’ve made it the whole school year without being grounded.”

“That is pretty impressive.” Anne agreed. “Are you inviting anyone else? Two people won’t be much of a birthday party.”

“Just Ron and Hermione, I think.” Harry nodded. “I should make more friends, next year. Maybe I’ll get some time off from almost dying, for once. Plus, you guys’ll all show up. And Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus, seeing as I’m their favorite nephew and all.”

“Don’t say that around Mattie- he’ll probably think you’re serious.” Anne smiled up at him. “Also- Drew says he’s only coming to your birthday if there’s cake.”

“Should we let Uncle Sirius try his hand at baking again?” Harry grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “That was hilarious the first time.”

“I think Uncle Remus just about died from how hard he was laughing- I guess Uncle Sirius doesn’t do much cooking at home, huh?” Anne giggled.

“I guess he doesn’t. We wouldn’t have an Uncle Remus if he did.” Harry shook his head. “Well, technically, we wouldn’t have Appa either. Didn’t Uncle Sirius live with him awhile too?”

“We can ask Appa!” She suggested.

“Or we could just ask Amma instead. You remember what happened the last time we let him talk about Uncle Sirius, right? He could go on for hours about him.” Harry pulled a face. “Almost a little creepy, how much they like each other.”

“Give it ten years- you and Ron will be the same way.” Anne nodded sagely.

“Not if Hermione’s there to stop us.” Harry stuck his tongue out. “Come on, what do I say?” He let Anne go for a second to put the book down. “I’ve only seen her once since she stopped being a Rock Person. Do I still bring it up?”

“Tell her she has pretty hair and you like her smile.” Anne’s tone was dead serious. “That’s what Appa said he does when Amma is mad.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like like Hermione.” Harry frowned. “What do you tell friends who are girls? I mean, I can tell Ginny to get out of my life and she’d totally get that I missed her, but would Hermione?”

“Probably not. You didn’t grow up with her. Just… Make sure she knows you missed her. Tell her she’s brilliant- you said something about her having paper in her hands in the Hospital Wing, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded and dug his quill out of his bag. “That’d be good to start with, don’t you think?”

 

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _I don’t think I could thank you enough for the library book page. Ron and I couldn’t have done it without you! Thankfully, we didn’t have to do exams without you either-- aren’t you glad they got rid of those? My dad certainly is. He keeps talking about free time and being off for the summer really excitedly. I think Mum’s going to start giving him our chores soon._
> 
> _Speaking of being off for the summer, would you like to come over in a couple weeks? My birthday’s on a Saturday and we’re seeing the Dursley’s the day before, so Mum’s said I can have some friends over since I haven’t gotten grounded all year! Ron’ll be coming too._
> 
> _Miss you lots and can’t wait to not get in trouble together next year!_
> 
> _From,_
> 
> _Harry_
> 
>  

“That alright?” Harry held out the still drying letter to Anne.

She inspected it carefully before nodding. “That sounds good! But you didn’t put the date for your party on here- does she know your birthday off the top of her head? Cause I don’t.”

“I’m offended. Your whole social life depends on my birthday.” Harry deadpanned, before scratching out “on a Saturday” and scribbling “Saturday the thirty-first” over it. “Can you read that?”

“Yup! Plus she’s been proofreading your essays for two years, so she should be used to it by now.” Anne hummed.

“Alright then, Hedwig. Got something for you.” Harry ran over to open his owl’s cage, rubbing her head before handing over the letter. “Take this to Hermione, alright? You know where she is.” Hedwig hooted twice before Harry realized his window was closed. “Oh, you’ll be needing that opened too.”

“This is why you need Hermione around, you big dummy.” Anne sighed.

Harry got the window open before looking to Hedwig again. “Alright,  I guess you can go now, right?” Hedwig flew out the window, letter clutched in her talons, and Harry waved at the bird as she disappeared into the sky. “Hey, Anne, how long do you think we have before Sarah gets us in trouble?”

“HARI!” Harry winced as he heard his father yell from downstairs. He did not sound happy. He’d probably found the owl pellets Harry’d hidden in the bathroom garbage instead of throwing out like he’d said he did last week. To be fair, they were stinking up his room, and no one used the bathroom he’d thrown them in except Matt, who wouldn’t complain anyway.

“Alright, I guess our summer’s over, kid.” Harry shook his head. “And I lasted two whole weeks too.”

“Look on the bright side,” Anne shrugged, “if you’re grounded you won’t have to go outside and deal with the garden snakes!”

“I’ll be dealing with worse.” Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead. He could already feel his toes being eaten by the overeager miniature lion that Dudley’s Aunt Marge liked to call a precious pet dog. “I’ll be on Ripper Duty.”


End file.
